


The Immortal Sky

by Dragon_Dweller



Category: Henry Cavill - Fandom, Henry Cavill RPF
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Advanced Technology, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bristol, Class Differences, Councils of London, Crimes & Criminals, Developing Relationship, Discrimination, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Dystopia, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Forced Servitude, Furture London, Future Fic, Future Government, Gen, Government Agencies, Hierarchy, High Social Status, Hypergamy, Indentured Servitude, Law Enforcement, London, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Low Social Status, Mistreatment, Organized Crime, Other, Politics, Post-Apocalypse, Post-World Destruction, Post-World War IV, Quasi-Slow Burn, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Secrets, Sectors, Separations, Sex, Slave Trade, Slave Trafficking, Slow Burn, Smut, Social Differences, Social Issues, Social Sttus, Survival, Technology, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Walled off Cities, Worldbuilding, bias, kal - Freeform, servitude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Dweller/pseuds/Dragon_Dweller
Summary: In 2867, Henry is a High Marshal in the City of London, who's lived in the posh Sector Two all of his life. While you’re just a low class stocker from Sector Twenty-Eight.What happens when the two of your lives collide, in the worse way.
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Reader, Henry Cavill/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a futuristic fic that I decided to write since I've never written one before. So, I've given it a swing. I hope you enjoy it!

23rd June, year 2867 – 4:33am

Henry groaned and rolled onto his side, arm coming out to the screaming alarm clock, blindly pressing the pad of his middle finger to the touch pad at the top of it.

“Good Morning, Mr. Cavill.” An electronic female voice said, replacing the irritating noise of his alarm. “It is currently 20°C, with a light rain. Would you like me to start the coffee maker for you?”

Sighing, Henry rolled onto his back again, staring up at the dark concrete ceiling above his bed, willing himself not to fall back to sleep. “Yes, please, Lucy.” He finally replied, throwing the blankets off his naked body and sat up on the edge of his bed, hissing as the cold, polished concrete floor shot up his bare feet, sending a body wreaking shiver down his spine.

A few minutes later, Henry's nose was greeted by the strong scent of coffee as the black coffee maker filled. Grunting, He padded into the bathroom, waving his hand over the light switch and blinking the sudden flood of light out of his eyes, before turning towards the sink and picking up his electric toothbrush and charcoal toothpaste.

“Lucy, turn the shower on to my preference temperature, please.” He called out, rinsing out his mouth.

“Your shower is currently 33°C, Mr. Cavill.” Lucy replied a moment later.

“Thank you, Lucy.” Henry said, stepping under the hot spray of the shower-head, groaning as the hot water penetrated the chill of his skin.

Henry hummed to himself as he showered, head swaying to the song that was stuck in his head after he heard it on the car radio the day before. Finishing his shower, Henry pulled the towel off the heated towel rack and started rubbing himself dry, still humming happily to himself, before picking up his electric razor and shaved, then went out into the kitchen for his still hot cup of coffee.

“Lucy, have you fed Kal?” He asked, as the Akita came bounding into the kitchen to greet his master.

“I have, Mr. Cavill.”

“Excellent.” He smiled, bending over to give Kal some morning scratches, before finishing off his coffee and getting dressed for his workday. “You be a good boy, Kal.” He said, patting the Akita on the head and smiled, when Kal barked back. “I know you will be.” He chuckled, then went out the door, the sound of the door automatically locking behind him.

He walked down the brightly lit hallway, nodding his head to his fellow neighbors, who were likewise on their way to their own respective forms of work or just coming home. He moved by the lift and jogged down the two sets of stairs, to the parking garage for the level his flat was on, and down the row to the parking space 583, where his BMW 10 series was housed. Tapping the space where the handle ordinarily would be, a screen on the driver's window appeared and Henry quickly entered his life pin, unlocking the car, and slipped behind the driver's seat. Pressing a button on the dash and entering another code, another voice greeted Henry.

“Good morning, High Marshal Cavill.”

“Morning.” Henry replied as the car started on its own. “Are there any reports for me?” He asked, resting back in his seat as the car carefully backed out of the parking space.

“Only one, High Marshal.” the voice replied and a screen appearing in front of him, obscuring the windshield.

“Open it.”

“High Marshal Cavill. I have a matter that I am leaving in your hands. I know you won't let me, or the Council, down in taking out this matter.” The voice of Supreme Commander, Dylon Reyes, said over the speakers of Henry's car. “Please, enter your life pin, to view the report.”

Henry did as prompted and started reviewing the report sent to him, for his newest case, by the Marshal Council of London, as the doors to the parking garage opened.

The sun was just coming over the horizon,—well, the almost 12 kilometer high wall that encompassed the entirety of the city of London. After the fourth World War and destruction of more than eighty percent of the world at large, the powers to be in the remaining civilizations, built massive walls around themselves, protecting what little resources they had left for their own, the barren world outside of their walls, other cities still seeking world control and the outlaws they banished to the wastelands.

If you were so blessed to see the sunrise, or even see a teeny ray of its light, you were the lucky few to be in the hierarchy of the new world.

Henry was one of those people, his father was a Supreme Cleric in the Cleric Council, the second highest Council, in the Councils of London, formed after the fall of the previous government and royal family, during the war. Giving him, his four brothers, parents and their family, the best opportunities in a city that’s barely scraping by. He had lived in Sector Two all of his life, the air was clear and mostly clean, thanks to the winds that weren't stopped by the wall acting as a windbreak, unlike the lower Sectors, causing the air to become stagnant and poor in quality, the lower you got.

It was known, the lower you got in the Sectors, the darker it became and not just because it received little to no sunlight. From Sector Eighteen to the very bottom of Sector Thirty-Two, no natural light penetrated, the air was stagnant and hazy, it was, virtually and literally, the slums. Criminals of all Sectors went there to hide, just before the Marshals and Councils hunted them down and booted them to the other side of the wall. The technology was barely enough to function on, especially in a City consumed and dependent upon it. The Slummers, as higher Sectors nicknamed them, were given the worst, most dangerous and filthy jobs that other Sectors were too good for or refused to do. Working the mines to get the ore that built more buildings, buildings they would never see, maintaining the wall, mostly the outside of it, and whatever other demeaning work they could do to pay for their meager survival.

The biggest business for the Slummers came from indentured servitude, selling themselves to the Uppers, they coined for people in light seeing Sectors, desperate to get out of the Slums and into a better life, even if it was as a servant and slave.

But, even if a Slummer didn't sell themselves into indentured servitude, many of their fellows would force them into it. Parents selling their children to Uppers to _save_ their lives from the Lower Sectors, or the shadiest Slummers and Criminals kidnapping them and selling them off, getting paid big bucks by Uppers for it.

Not enough to get them into Upper Sectors, but to live a lot more comfortably in the Lower ones.

The Councils of London had tried for years to prevent the slavery of Slummers, fearing the people of the Lower Sectors, who outnumbered the Upper Sectors, two to one, would riot and overtake them, if they didn't. But, after a century of countless raids and persecutions, it did little to slow it down, let alone eradicate it. So, the Councils stopped, but not all together. They still held one or two raids a month, keeping up the illusion of trying to prevent it, to keep the troublemakers threatening a coup, at bay and happy.

Many Lower Sector people didn't even have a life pin, the four to six pin number, issued at the time of birth, to be used from anything to unlocking and locking the doors of your home and car, paying bills and buying anything, to identifying yourself. They were either not born in a hospital or the personnel in the hospital didn't care about them enough to have one issued, knowing that many of the jobs they were going to be forced into wouldn't bother asking them for one; it was too much paperwork, for someone that was liable to die at any given moment from their occupation, illness or assault, from the poor and criminal conditions of their Sector.

And that's where you found yourself.

– –

You were born in Sector Twenty-Eight, twenty-three years ago.

Your father, Tristan, was born in Sector Twenty-two and your mother, Tasha, was born in Sector Twenty-nine, but despite that social different, even being born one Sector apart was a big deal to many of the populous of London, your parents defied those odds by falling in love and marrying, having you, your twin brother, Mikey, and little brother, Chris. They moved to Sector Twenty-Eight, because it was the only place your parents could find work; Tristan worked as a Sanitation Worker for your home Sector and Tasha worked as an A&E Nurse.

When you turned seventeen, you were issued a job as a Stocker, for your Sector's Council run supermarket, which you didn't mind. Even though the hours were gruelingly long and the pay was almost nonexistent, you were allowed a certain amount of free items and a discount for other purchases, so it made stocking the pantry at home a lot easier for you and your family. That's all you cared about. As for your brother, Mikey, he was issued a job as a dishwasher at another Council run establishment, which he loathed with a major passion. His hours were slightly shorter than yours, since the establishment he worked at wasn't open twenty-four/seven, like your supermarket, but he was almost never home. Your parents worried that he was getting himself into severe trouble, being gone at all hours of the day and night, coming back sometimes with cuts and bruises.

Tasha had even found pass stubs in his pockets as she did the wash for the worst Sectors in London, Thirty-One and Two.

“You might be _content_ to live in this fucking Slum the rest of your lives, but I'm not!”

Mikey's screaming voice could be heard down the dim and blinking light hallway to their family's flat, as you stepped into it at four am, just getting off your night stocking shift. You shook your head, as you approached, rubbing at your tired face, and stopped outside the door, listening to him and your parents argue for the hundredth time that week.

“You're going to bring the Councils down on this household, and I can't allow it!” Your father argued back, his voice just as loud as Mikey's, but sounded as tired as you felt. “I will not have you jeopardizing the safety and roof of your sister, little brother, your mother and I.”

“Just because you're a restless and hotheaded child.”

“I'm not restless or hotheaded, dad!” Mikey screamed and something crashed, in emphasis. “I am sick of being oppressed by the Council and Uppers!”

“Michail, please.” Your mother begged, her voice just barely audible through the thick metal door; you could hear the tears in her voice. “Think about this.”

Sighing again, you pressed your thumb to the door panel, waiting for it to recognize you, and stepped into the living room, where the three of them were standing; your ten year old brother hid behind the corner of the hallway. You smiled at him softly and he smiled back at you, giving you a shy wave in greeting.

“Christophe!” Your mother snapped at him, alerted to him being there. “Go back to your room!”

“Man.” Christ huffed, stomping off to his room and slamming the door.

Your parents sighed, rubbing at their faces, then turned back to Mikey, still fuming by the turned over coffee table.

“What's going on?” You asked, blinking tiredly at them.

“Your twin has been working, _illegally_ , in Sector Thirty-Two, for Runners.” Tristan replied, eyeing his eldest son.

You looked over at your brother, with an exhausted shock.

– –

Runners were people that illegally passed through the Sectors of London, running anything from drugs to false work documents and people, or anything else that would make them money and give them high profile clients, totally under the table.

But, Runners didn't only run their business inside the walls of London, either.

There were open panels in the wall, it was hard to maintain every square inch of the 70 kilometer long and 12 kilometers high wall that housed the city of London. So, there were several places in it, some of almost 2 kilometers wide, where there weren't any wall panels at all, allowing passage from the outside in and the inside out. A couple of the passages were guarded by Beta Marshals, but all of those sections were in Sectors Four to Eight, where the Upper-Middle and Middle classes lived and functioned; Sector Eight was the last Sector before everything else disappeared below the top of the wall.

What possible business could Runners and their Criminal Bosses have out in the world wiped almost clean by a fourth World War and countless bombs, you ask?

Well, it wasn't all destroyed.

Places like London, Moscow, Berlin, Cairo, Tokyo, L.A and New York, Rio de Janeiro and Victoria, in Australia, all, in some way, survived the war. Several other places in the world survived as well, and not all cities, Wicklow, in Ireland, came out of the war reasonably unscathed, even though Dublin did not, causing Wicklow to become Ireland's new capital city. Many capital cities in the world, like New Delhi, Beijing or Helsinki were destroyed beyond restoration and a couple of places, both North and South Korea, Madrid, Alaska and Calgary, were completely destroyed.

So, there were still pockets of civilizations outside of London's wall that survived. Bristol survived the war, to some extent.

After the World Treaty, an agreement to no longer manufacture bombs and the sort, to dissolve armies and military that can attempt another war with the remaining sections of the world and promises to never wage war ever again, the formation of the Councils of London was created soon after the war's end, made up of The Royal Council, the highest Council in London, that created the laws, regulations, policies, taxes and commerce. The Clerics Council, who acted as Judges and Juries in legal matters, and maintained the federal reserves for London, and the Marshal Council, the Council that functioned like a police department and a home protection force, enforcing the laws set down by the Royals and Clerics, doing raids, arrests, investigations, in everything from homicide, fraud, cyber crimes, narcotics, property crimes, and everything else a police force would regularly investigate and do as a function.

There was also a Council for Daily Operations, tasked with assigning jobs, distributing and producing food stuffs, medical needs and everything else, not covered by the other Councils.

Once the Councils were formed and assigned, the Cleansing Trials began, setting about raids, arrests and charges against people with war crimes, and anyone susceptible to causing the newly rebuilt city any issues. They were all found guilty, whether or not they were, and exiled outside the still being built wall. Many of them died, the lands mostly barren and uninhabitable. But, several of them found their way to the city of Bristol, and created their own walled city, filled and run by Crime Lords, as they were called, who would return to London, between the wall openings, corrupting and turning Londoners to their cause, that London was playing favoritism and other crimes, and needed to be stopped.

– –

You couldn't believe your brother would join that band of low lives.

“Why, Mike?” You sighed, frowning at him.

“You're the prime example of what I'm talking about, Issy!” He replied, using your nickname.

“You just got home, after working a fifteen hour shift at the S-28 Supermarket! Now, you'll spend the next four hours doing other chores and things you need to get done, only to get five hours of shitty sleep, and start all over again.” He argued.

Which part of you agreed with.

“You'll drop dead before your thirty, if you keep up like this!”

“No such thing is going to happen, Mikey.” Your father sighed, raking a hand through his graying hair.

“Look at her!” Mikey hissed back, pointing out the raccoon-like dark circles under your eyes. “She's got eye circles, her eyes are bloodshot, and she's practically a walking zombie, because she's not getting enough sleep, and doing all that heavy lifting.”

“She deserves better! She's beautiful and intelligent, and it's being wasted!”

“Thanks, Mikey.” You chuckled, smiling at him softly.

“Come with me, Issy.” He said suddenly, turning towards you. “You'll make ten times more money than you'd ever make at the market and the hours are all yours.”

“That's why you're out at all hours of the day and night, coming back looking like this.” Tasha replied, pointing out the black eye he was sporting.

“I protect what's mine.” Mikey said, darkly.

“M, I know it sucks, but I rather enjoy my job. I can put on my music and ignore the world, and no one bothers me.” You told him, patting his arm. “Thanks, though.”

“Fine, if you guys want to be sheep, then follow the flock.” He growled, storming to his room and coming back a moment later; carrying a backpack. “I'm out.” He said, and left the flat without another word.

“Don't worry.” You said to your parents. “He'll come back, when he calms down again.” You smiled softly at them and went down to your own room.

Falling face first onto your messy bed with a sore groan, you laid there for a few minutes, before rolling over and stared up at your poster covered concrete ceiling. You thought about your brother's heated words. You did only get, maybe, five hours of sleep a day, before you were back up, trudging through four miles of Sector Twenty-Eight streets, dark and cloudy with the yellowy street lights and grayish-white of store fronts, the street dirty and strewn with rubbish, dealers on the corners or lurking in the narrow alleyways, waiting for their clienteles, itching and twitching for their painkillers, or Sub-Blue, a blue tinted powder, that was stronger than cocaine and heroin, combine. You kept your hand in your pocket, fingers wrapped around the pocket knife your father gave you, in case some of the low lives that lived in the Sector tried attacking you on your way home or to work.

“Eric.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Hello, Ms. How can I help?” Your virtual assistant replied.

“Start my playlist and turn the lights to night mode, please.” You told it, standing up and taking off your work uniform, in place for a pair of shorts and a tank top.

The first song of your playlist started piping through the four speakers in the corners of your room, the shade on the long and thick glass window above your bed slowly rolled shut and the lights dimmed until they were just about off.

“Good night, Ms.” Eric said, in a soft whisper.

“Thanks, Eric.” You mumbled, tossing your blankets over you, and were out as your head settled on your pillow.

– –

Henry's car parked itself in his designated spot at the Council of Marshals Headquarters and got out.

“Henry!” A voice echoed in the parking garage.

“Martin!” Henry called back, rolling his eyes, before turning around to face the little man, hurrying up to him. “How are you?” He asked, looking down at him, the other man was several centimeters shorter.

“I'm doing good, I'm just getting off.” Martin explained, beaming up at Henry. “Are you just getting in?” He asked, looking Henry over.

Henry was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black sweater, being a High Marshal had the quirks of allowing Henry to wear whatever he wanted. Martin was only an Alpha Marshal, two ranks below Henry, so he still had to wear a uniform.

“Yeah, I am.” He nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Rather early for you.” the other man pointed out, knowing Henry didn't usually come to the Headquarters until around noon.

“Yeah, I couldn't sleep.” Henry told him, rubbing at his eyes, darkening circles underneath them. He hadn't been sleeping well, one of his last cases took a heavy toll on him. “So, I figured I'd get something done, instead of laying in bed, like a log.”

“I hear that.” Martin laughed, playfully punching Henry in the arm. “I'll let you off, I got the wife a new skivvy, and we're still training it.” He said, chuckling.

“What happened to the last _servant_ you got Heather?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes at him, it made his skin crawl to hear people talk about indentured servants as it or a slave.

“The thing got sick and the bill to get them healthy again would have been more than we paid for it, so we sent it back to its own Sector.” Martin sighed, shaking his head, and looking sad about it, but Henry knew that sadness was for himself and not the servant.

“Have you gotten one yet?” He asked, looking back up at Henry.

“No.” Henry said, with a short snap. “I don't need one. Unlike you, with a wife and two kids, I live alone with my dog. So, I don't have any need for one.”

Martin chuckled at Henry. “You know, they're for more than just cleaning the house.” He said, his tone suggestive.

“I do.” Henry replied, coldly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I still don't need one.”

“Oh! So, you finally found yourself a girl?”

Henry took a deep breath, flexing his hands and trying to keep himself calm. “I've got a classified case I need debriefing on, I'll see you later, Martin.” He said, turning on his boot heels and striding towards the lift going into the building.

“You're not getting any younger, Cavill.” Martin called after him, a smug and crude tone in his voice.

It took every bit of Henry's strength, and the good timing of the lift door opening, to keep himself from either flipping Martin off or going back to punch him in the face. He knew he wasn't getting any younger, he had just turned thirty-seven, two weeks before. His shoulders were tense the entire ride up to the fortieth floor of the building, all the way up to his boss's corner office and his own office. The people on the floor seemed to understand Henry was in a dark mood and left him be, until he got to Reyes's office, and he knocked lightly on the door.

“Enter!” Reyes called from inside.

Henry pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Morning.” He greeted his superior, closing the door behind him, and took a seat across from him, at the black glass desk, watching Reyes quickly make a quick note on his electronic notepad.

“Good morning, Henry.” Reyes smiled, putting his stylus down and leaned back in his chair. “I'm surprised to see you here so early.” He teased, Dylon had known Henry for years and was one of the few friends he had.

“Yeah, well.” Henry sighed, running a hand through his curls. “After that Sector Ten double homicide case, I haven't been able to sleep too well.” He explained, unburdened about sharing what he was thinking or feeling to Reyes.

“It was pretty gruesome.” Reyes agreed, pressing his lips together and recalling the case. “I've had my share of nightmares over it.”

“So, what's this case you're putting me on?” Henry asked, after a moment of silence. “I know it's concerning lower Sectors, but I don't get why you're putting me on it.” He explained.

“I needed someone I could trust.” Reyes replied, restlessly turning side to side in his chair. “and someone who's good at going undercover.” He added. “For someone that's lived and worked in Sector Two all his life, you have an uncanny ability of blending in with the Lower Sectors.”

“It's not all that hard.” Henry commented with lift of his brow and eye roll. “How long do you want me undercover for?” He asked, licking his lips.

“As long as it takes you to get the job done.” Reyes told him, bluntly. “Knowing you, though, that shouldn't be anything more than a month.” He chuckled, knowing that Henry was methodical, but quick, in the way he did his job.

“All right.” Henry sighed, shoulders finally relaxing as his brain started formulating a plan on how to go about the case. “I'll get on it, starting now.” He said, already feeling the throb of a headache start in the back of his brain.

“Great!” Reyes grinned over at him. “The main area of the case is in the S-30's. You know what levels of the area will be the most active and will find out more, once you start infiltrating the ranks.”

“Shouldn't take more than a day or two.” He replied, running through the mental list of informants and connections he had down there.

– –

Mikey had been missing for almost a month, after the fight he and your parents had about him being a Runner. It was very unlike him to be gone this long without any word, no matter how bad the argument with them was. Your worry and concern had only grown as the days went by without any sight or sound of him.

“Where are you going?” Your mother asked, looking up from where she was serving Chris his dinner.

“I'm going to look for Mikey.” You answered, pulling on your jacket.

“Honey, no.” She shook her head at you, setting Chris's plate in front of him. “It's too dangerous out there.”

“If Mikey can do it, so can I.” You replied, heading out the door before she could try and stop you again.

You crossed almost half of the Sector and entered a small mom and pop's Mandarin take-out restaurant that you knew one of your brother's friends worked at. Nodding your head at Jinyu, as she ran the register, ringing up a customer, and moved around the counter, smiling as she moved away from the customer to kiss you on the cheek.

“Where have you been, huh?” She asked you, holding you at arm's length and looking you over. “You've been working too much again.” She accused you, goodheartedly.

“You know me.” You chuckled back, shyly. “I'm here to see Teddy.” You told her, hearing the clink of dishes coming from the back.

“Oh, what has that boy done this time?” She asked, narrowing her eyes in the direction of her son.

“Hopefully nothing.” You told her, chuckling again. “I just need to know if he's seen my brother, is all.”

“Ah, well off you go.” She said, letting you go with a pat on the arm.

“Thanks.” You smiled and stepped through the colorful beaded curtain into the back. “Hey, Teddy.” You said, lifting a brow at his back as he hunched over the overflowing sink.

“Oh, hey.” He jumped, startled by the sound of your voice. “What are you doing here?” He asked, drying off his hands and turning towards you.

“I need to know if you've seen Mikey.” You told him, straight to the point.

“I haven't seen him in over a week.” Teddy replied, frowning at you.

“Well, that's sooner than I've seen him.” You retorted, coldly.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn't been home in a month.” You informed him, leaning against the metal table of stacked, clean dishes beside you. “Why did he come see you?” You asked him, narrowing your eyes as he started to fidget.

“I can't talk about that.” He answered, clearing his throat, and turned back to washing his dishes.

Letting out a frustrated breath, you removed the knife from your pocket, flipping open the blade and set it on the table. “Tell me where he is, Teddy.” You told him, not playing around and getting tired of being yanked around.

“You wouldn't.” He laughed at you.

“Try me.” You replied. “You really think the Council will give a fuck about a dishwasher with known Runner ties?” You asked him, hoping deep down that he didn't call your bluff.

“Cause I don't.”

Teddy stared at you for a long moment, then let his shoulders drop. “He's been staying with another Runner in Sector Thirty-One.” He finally relented. “They're planning on moving to Bristol, so they have better opportunities.” He explained to you, leaning back against the sink. “The closer you are to your Boss, the more money you're able to make. The Boss Mikey's been working for, Jaxon, lives in Sector Four of Bristol, so he's pretty big time.”

“Has he left yet?”

“I don't know.” Teddy shrugged. “He said he was waiting for something, when I saw him last. I don't know what he's waiting for; people, word or transport. I'm unsure.”

“Where in Sector Thirty-One is he staying?” You asked, shaking your head at your brother's continued stupidity.

“I don't know where he lives.” He admitted. “All I know is the Runner's name, Fynn Penmark.”

“What's the easiest way into the Sector?”

“You're not crazy enough to go after him?” Teddy asked, looking astonished.

“If my brain dead brother is going to try something as stupid as going to Bristol to live out this ' _world freeing_ ' dream of his, then I need to stop him. Before, he gets himself killed or banished.” You huffed, exasperated.

“So, the route?”

Teddy rubbed his face and sighed. “Give me your mobile.” He said, holding his hand out to you for the device.

You pulled it out of your pocket and handed it to him, watching him pull up the map of London and mark several points along the Sectors that would get you by the Sector gates and all the way down to Sector Thirty-One, then handed your mobile back.

“If you get caught, you don't know my fucking name.” He snapped at you.

“You're who?” You replied, checking out the route he gave you. “But, if you're fucking me, I'll come back and kill you.” You promised him, turning on your heels and walked out.

“Wait.” Jinyu said, grabbing your hand as you started to leave. “Here.” She held a take away box out to you.

The amazing scent of Sweet and Sour Chicken greeted your nose and you smiled at her, taking it from her. “Thanks.” You chuckled, taking the pair of chopsticks as well.

“Always for you, love.” She smiled at you and kissed your cheek.

You left the shop and went down a little ways, before stopping at a little bench, opening the flaps of the box and removed the plastic chopsticks from their clear plastic packaging, then dug into the steaming mound of brown rice, pan fried Sweet and Sour Chicken and veggies, humming with how delicious it was. Finishing off your food, you tossed the chopsticks and container into the mostly empty trash bin, just because everyone else were sloppy bastards didn't mean you should be too.

Besides, you knew your father would be the one cleaning it up, when he starts his next shift, and you didn't want to be one of the reasons your father's job was already a hassle.

“Right, down to work.” You sighed, opening the map and looked for your first opening. “Right.” You took out your wireless earbuds and pressed them into your ears. “Eric.”

“Ms.?”

“Give me point directions on the route on my mobile, please.” You told the AI.

“Of course, Ms.” Eric replied, with a beep signaling him entering into the map application. “Make a sharp right in two seconds.” His voice came a moment later.

You cut into an alleyway two seconds later, jogging down to the end of it, then took a left at Eric's next instruction, dodging around some shady people lingering around the back alleys, where they could do and sell their drugs or other goods, trying not to make eye contact with them. You finally made it to the open section of the gate wall that led from Sector Twenty-Eight into Sector Twenty-Nine, freezing as a High Guard walked passed, but judging by the way his uniform was unbuttoned, he must have just gotten off work at the gate a mile to the east.

“Afternoon.” He smiled at you, as he went by.

“Afternoon.” You smiled back, heart pounding as you turned east to fake going down to the gate.

You walked several meters, until you felt the coast was clear, then turned back and slipped through the gap in the fence. Eric gave you your next direction, but you stayed where you were, heart still pounding. You had never done anything illegal before, you've never even fake voted during the London Council Electorals, that took place every three years, or pirated anything on your extensive music library. This all made your hands shake and your chest tighten, the adrenaline from wanting to find your stupid brother was starting to run low.

Closing your eyes and taking several deep and calming breaths, you pushed off the wall and started in the direction you needed to go for the next Sector gate.

“Hey, sweetheart.” A laughing voice called out as you skirted around a corner

You cleared your throat and kept walking, slowly slipping your hand into your pocket for your knife, only to feel a tight, cold rock drop into your stomach at the realization you left it with Teddy. Your throat felt tight and your skin rippled with needles of paranoia, now that you didn't have anything to protect yourself with. Luckily, the person didn't follow you anymore than a couple of steps, before shrugging you off and going back to whatever it was he was doing beforehand.

You made it through Gate Sector Thirty without an issue or seeing anyone else.

“Go right at the next turn.” Eric's voice said in your ears. “Then, take a left, in three meters.”

“Right.” You sighed, quietly.

“No. Left, Ms.” Eric replied to the sound of your voice.

You chuckled, smirking. “Left.” You corrected yourself, amused.

You didn't have many friends growing up, it wasn't exactly easy to make friends in a life like this, so many people were more concerned with staying alive, keeping their heads down, doing their jobs and staying out of the Councils' eyes. Your A.I assistant, Eric, as you named him, when you were twelve years old, had become your friend instead. You told him everything, held in depth conversations with him, everything one would do with a friend. Eric kept you company, and you knew, if you couldn't rely on Eric, then you had no one.

The only thing Eric lacked, was a body.

Relief flooded you, seeing the giant faded and worn, white lettering along the Sector Thirty-One fence. You quickly slipped through the remaining distance between you and it, pressing your back against the wall of a shop as a pair of Beta Marshals strode by, chattering to each other, before vanishing in a fog of exhaust and stagnant air. Making a run for it, you slid through the narrow opening, hissing as part of the jagged wall scraped your arm.

“Mother--” You growled, jaw clenched, and looked down at the bloody wound on the outside of your bicep.

Shrugging off your backpack, unzipping it, and rooting inside, you pulled out your black and gray scarf and tied it around your arm as a makeshift bandage, then pulled your backpack back on. Wiping your sweaty forehead on your other arm and looking around, you had never been to this Sector before. The only other Sectors you'd been too were Twenty-Two and Twenty-Nine, to visit family, and that had been when you were very little, before Chris was even born.

Now, all you had to do was find out where Fynn Penmark lived.

You moved into the more well lit areas of Sector Thirty-One, feeling them being safer than that of the shady and smokey alleyways and doorsteps. You approached an open store front of a business, the smell of something off being cooked reached your nose.

“Excuse me.” You cleared your throat, getting the business owner's attention, as his back was to you, as he butchered something.

“What?” He hissed, wiping his bloody cleaver on his even more filthy apron.

“I'm looking for someone.” You told him, trying to keep your voice confident. “A Fynn Penmark.”

“I don't know any _Penmark_.” The man said, sniffing sharply through his nose and spitting on the wet and bloody floor of his shop, making your lip twitch with disgust. “Now, get lost, if you're not going to buy something.” He barked, turning back to the cutting block.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, biting your lip and moved on, asking a few other people along the way.

“Hey!” A voice yelled behind you, a kid running up to you.

“Yeah?” You frowned at him.

“You're looking for Fynn?” He asked you, blinking up at you.

“Yeah.” You nodded at him.

“How do you know him?” The kid asked you, looking dubious.

“He knows my twin brother, Michail.” You explained to him.

“Oh, if that's the case then.” He sighed, kicking at the dusty street. “I know where to find him, he works at the smelting plant.” He explained to you. “He should be there now.”

“Cool, thanks.” You smiled at him, pulling out your mobile to figure out what direction the plant would be in.

“I can show you, if you want?” He offered.

You frowned at him and sighed, then shrugged. “Sure. Lead the way.” You said, stepping aside with a sweep of your arm.

The kid smiled at you and led the way, staying just ahead of you. You talked a bit, finding out his name was James and he was twelve, his mom worked as a waitress and his dad died in a mining collapse, just after he was born. You told him about yourself and traded jokes with him, relaxing for the first time, since your half ass threat towards Teddy, which felt like it had happened days before, and in reality, it had only been mere hours. You and James took a turn around a corner, as he got you to laugh at a very decent impression of the Supreme Royal, and suddenly felt a pair of hands on your shoulders and a large presence behind you.

“Hey!” You gasped, trying to pull away from them, only to double over by a blind punch to the gut, knocking all the air out of your body.

“Good pick up, Jemmy.” A gruff voice said above you, then a hand tangled in the back of your hair, jerked your head back. “You're a pretty one.” A gap toothed and dirty man said, grinning down at you.

“You'll fetch a great price.” He chuckled.

There was a sharp pain in the side of your neck, and everything went black.

– –

Henry scrubbed his broad palms over his scruffy face and through his wild, chocolate curls, he was deep undercover, not shaving or getting his usual haircut, knowing that the punks of the Thirty Sectors didn't care about how they looked, they cared about their money. He still wasn't sleeping well and sleeping even worse, taking up a flat in Sector Thirty to keep up appearances, the screaming of fights and cries of babies, mixed with the non-stop noise of the streets outside his window, kept him up at all hours.

“Will?” A voice said behind him, addressing him by not only his middle name, but his undercover one.

“That's me.” Henry replied, turning around to face the man.

“I'm Twist.” The man replied, sizing Henry up. “This way.” He said, jerking his head behind him, then held open a beat up metal door, into a near pitch black hallway.

Henry stepped into the hallway, his shoulders tense and his sense of alert at a peak, readying himself for anything, ambush or otherwise. The hallway was icy, the sound of dripping water and the scurrying of rats, but nothing more. He could make out the shadowy outlines of doors, only a slot on the bottom of the door, wide enough for a tray of food to be shoved through, but not to see out of.

“Anything specific?” Twist asked, following a few steps behind Henry.

“No.” Henry replied, keeping his voice calm and toneless.

“We have a line up for you to review.” He told him, opening a second door at the end of the hall, into a bright room.

True to his word, there was a line of six people, three women and three men, lined up against the wall on the opposite side of the room, behind a scuff marked yellow and black line. All of them looked terrified and malnourished, what little clothing they wore was filthy, covered in dirt, blood, body fluids, other substances, and torn, offering very little coverage to keep them warm in the chilly room; Henry was wearing a thick sweater and had goosebumps, he could understand the way they hugged themselves and shook, from cold and fear.

Henry walked up and down the line up, keeping behind the line that separated them, studying their dirty faces. It had taken him nearly three months to get an interview with Twist, proving himself and paying people off when he couldn't. It was his case, infiltrate one of the biggest, and illegal, slave traffickers in the city of London. It made his blood boil, seeing these poor souls here, mistreated and scared, and unable to take them all out at that moment, he had to retain his undercover profile, or he'd end up in either a gun fight or dead in the gutter somewhere.

His eyes met the petrified eyes of one of them, the youngest among them, tears dripping down their face, as they hugged and tried to shrink in on themselves, a nasty bruise and cut under one eye and clear other wounds dotting their body.

“Have to put them in their place.” Twist spoke up, noting Henry staring at the Slave a bit longer than the rest. “Nothing a solid beating can't fix.” He laughed, making all six of the slaves jerk in fright.

“How much?” Henry asked, jerking his head at the one he had been staring at.

“Six thousand credits.” Twist replied, narrowing his eyes at the slave.

Henry nodded his head, pulling out his mobile for a moment. “I'll get back to you then.” He said, pocketing the device again.

“We do payments.” Twist informed him, impatiently.

“ _I_ don't do payments.” Henry growled back, through clenched teeth. “I pay in full or not at all. I'll be back with payment tomorrow.” He told him, seeing himself out.

Henry walked back to the secure environment of his undercover flat, before he contacted Reyes about what he saw, verifying that Twist is the main Slaver of the Sector, clearly kidnapping people from various Sectors, sending them down here to his main warehouse, to be starved, beaten into submission, then sold to whoever paid.

“Great work, Cavill.” Reyes praised him. “Now, I need you to make a transaction.”

“You what?” Henry snapped, his throat tightening.

“To make it good, I need you to make a purchase.” Reyes repeated himself, shuffling papers.

“You want me to _buy_ one of those poor people?” Henry asked, gobsmacked.

“Yes.” Reyes replied, nodding his head. “The Council will reimburse you for the cost.”

Henry rubbed at his face, extremely agitated with the subject. “Fine.” He sighed, giving in, it was the only way to bust this Slave ring, afterwards the victims will just get sent home.

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Oh, Henry.” Reyes said suddenly, before Henry could hang up. “The transaction is final.”

“What do you mean, _final_?” He asked, narrowing his eyes and getting a suspicious tingle in the back of his skull.

“You buy it, you keep it.”

“These _people_ aren’t _its_ , Dylon.” Henry barked, his anger glowing. “And I don't fucking want one of them, either.” He added, his thick body shaking with his rage.

“Then, shall I call the High Cleric and tell them your case has failed, and bring you home?” Reyes asked, his tone cool and almost threatening. “Allowing these _people_ to continue Slave trafficking.”

Henry's hand tightened around his mobile, the plastic complaining under the pressure, before relaxing again. “Fine.” He huffed, disgusted.

“Excellent!” Reyes replied, with annoying cheeriness. “Call me, when it's done, and I'll send the boys in to clear the place.”

“I will.” Henry replied, feeling cold as he hung up.

He almost tossed his mobile against the wall, before he remembered the equally frustrating paperwork it would take to replace the damn thing, and threw the glass of water on his coffee table instead. Letting out a furious yell, Henry yanked his sweater and clothing off and stomped into the bathroom, manually turning on the shower tap with nothing, but hot water, and stepped under it, hissing and groaning as the scalding water burned into his skin, trying to burn away the growing feeling of filth over the situation.

The money wasn't of any concern to Henry, he didn't care about the money, he had loads of it. He could probably buy every Slave Twist had in his possession and not feel the dent at all. What bothered Henry was having one. Henry didn't like the idea of owning someone, an indentured servant or not, but if he didn't do it, more people would share that same fate.

“FUCK!” He screamed, beating his fists on the wet concrete wall, bloodying them.

The next morning, sore, bruised, cut up hands and all, Henry returned to Twist's.

“So, do you know which one you want?” Twist asked, regarding Henry across from his desk, in his cramped office.

“Yeah.” Henry sulked and brooded. “I'll take the one I asked about yesterday.” He replied, glowering at Twist and wishing he could rip his head off his shoulders with his bare hands.

“Great.” Twist replied, forcing a smile, feeling Henry's foul mood. “Six thousand credits.” He said, entering his life pin on a notepad, then shoved it across the desk to Henry, to enter his own, paying for the Slave.

Henry entered his four number pin and watched the screen turn green, when the purchase went through, and not two minutes later, there was a loud bang as the Command Marshals blasted open the front door and started their raid on the warehouse. Henry jumped to his feet, pulling his weapon as Twist got to his own feet, scrambling to open a drawer in his desk.

“Hands!” Henry barked over all the noise. “Now, or so help me God, I will pop your head like a grape.” He hissed, every muscle in his body tense, praying for Twist to do something stupid so he could kill him.

But, the Trafficker, who was close to wetting himself, complied to Henry's demands, turning around to press his forehead and palms to the wall behind him. Slightly lowering his weapon, Henry pulled his cuffs out, edged around the desk and slapped them over Twist's wrists. Holstering his gun, now that Twist was restrained, Henry grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck and forced him out of the office.

“Whoa!”

Henry barked as a Command Marshal appeared, his automatic weapon trained on them. “High Marshall Henry Cavill, Sector Two, you idiot!” He growled and shoved Twist in his direction. “Throw him in the fucking truck.” He hissed, pulling his weapon again, as shots rang out elsewhere in the building.

“Sir! Yes, Sir!” The Command Marshal complied, shouldering his weapon and hauled Twist outside.

Henry carefully made his way through the building, passing other High and Command Marshals as the place was cleared, a couple bodies of Twist's associates laid out on the floor, in a pool of their own blood. He finally made it to the cells the victims were housed in. They were dark, dank, filthy and cold. Most of them had been emptied already, but the High Marshals were forced to stop opening the cells to aid the Command Marshals as more of Twist's men came out of the woodwork. He opened the closest cell to him and found it empty, before moving on, making it to the third to last cell.

Swinging the door open, the occupant gasped and scrambled away from the door, cowering in the leaking corner, trying to hide from him. Henry recognized them as the one he had, regretfully, purchased minutes before. He holstered his weapon, moving slowly into the cell and squatting down, his expression soft as he regarded them.

“It's all right.” He said, speaking softly, but loud enough to be heard over the sounds outside the cell. “I'm not going to hurt you.” He carefully extended his hand. “Come, you're safe with me, I swear.” He told them, a lump in his throat seeing their fear.

“That's it.” He smiled sweetly, as they shifted closer to him. “I'm Henry.” He introduced himself, hoping it would help lessen their fear.

– –

You had been kidnapped, that much was obvious to you.

You didn't know how long it had been, your cell was pitch black, so tracking time was impossible. Food came at irregular intervals or not at all. You had screamed and raged for a long time after you were brought wherever you were, but that only earned you one of the worst beatings of your life, you couldn't move out of the corner for nearly two days afterwards, not even to crawl to the disgusting food tray they shoved through your food port. They even beat you, when you were quiet and still. You were dragged out a couple of times and lined up, to be gawked at, then thrown back into your personal hell hole.

You had been in a fitful sleep, when you heard the cell rattling bang vibrate through the place; it sounded like the building was crashing down on top of you. There were other bangs and pops ringing out, screams, yells and voices of all sorts. You laid frozen in your place on the floor, back against the wall. There were bangs of the other cell doors being opened, slowly creeping closer to yours, before they suddenly stopped and the hallway outside your cell went quiet; you could still hear the commotion outside in the rest of the building. You had no idea what you should do, so you just laid there, hoping it would be over soon and someone would come back for you, and your prayers seemed to be heard, as cell doors started opening again.

The creak and scrape of the lock to your cell door came free and the heavy metal door slowly opened. Your eyes flared seeing this huge looming shadow fill the doorway, a clear gun in its hand, you gasped and crawled quickly away, hot tears filling your eyes, sure this was it, you were going to die. They slowly bent down, gun going away.

“It's all right.”

Their voice was deep, but soft.

“I'm not going to hurt you.”

They promised, hand coming out towards you, fingers relaxed, but you still pressed yourself against the wall.

“Come, you're safe with me, I swear.”

The tone of their voice sounded sincere, and you felt a trust in them start to build inside of you, and you shifted, unfolding yourself from against the rusted and flaking wall.

“That's it.” He smiled, sweetly. “I'm Henry.”

Gulping, you carefully took his hand and his strong fingers gently closed around yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, as he slowly stood back up, taking you with him. Henry continued to smile at you as he looked you over in the weak light flooding in from the hall.

“We're getting out of this place.” Henry told you, his voice strong. “Okay?”

You nodded, mutely.


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry rescues you after being kidnapped, but the complications don’t stop there.

“I need you to stay close to me, okay?” Henry said, nodding his head at you. “It's a little crazy in here, but we're going to make it outside. Nothing will happen to you, you have my promise.”

“Okay.” You told him, your voice weak and rough from lack of use.

“Good.” Henry smiled a little bit more, gently pulling you closer to him as he turned to face the door.

You nearly walked on Henry's heels as he guided you out of the warehouse. You shivered, seeing the dead traffickers, shying away from the Command and High Marshals standing around and dealing with the still alive lawbreakers. Henry got you outside, directing you to his own vehicle and opened the passenger door.

“Here, sit down.” He said and reached into the back seat, grabbing his jacket and draping it over your shoulders as you shyly moved to sit down in the car. “Lucy, turn the heat on.” He ordered his AI, seeing you shiver.

“When will I get to go home?” You asked, looking up at him shyly.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The truth is--” He frowned at you, his heart aching.

“The truth?” You blinked up at him, when he paused.

“You won't be going home.” He told you, biting his lip.

“Why?” You squeaked, alarmed.

Henry's mouth worked for a moment and went dry, then he groaned. “We'll need to interview you, find out what happened to you, and all that.” He told you, beating around the actual reason.

You now being his property.

“Then, where will I stay?” You asked him, breathing hard as your anxiety peaked.

“I have a place for you.” Henry said and squatted down, seeing your panic. “Just don't worry about it.” He told you, resting his hand on your knee. “I'll take care of you. You just stay here, where it's warm and safe, then we'll go.” He explained to you, as delicately as he could.

“I just need to call my Superior.” He said, pulling his mobile from his back pocket.

You turned in the seat and Henry closed the door, dialing Reyes's number.

“It's done.” He said, as soon as the other man answered. “The Command Marshals have swept the building, taking the victims and arresting the perpetrators.”

“Excellent.” Reyes grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Did you make the purchase properly?” He asked. “We need the paperwork to show they were selling Slaves illegally.”

“I did.” Henry replied, glancing over his shoulder at you. “She's in my care now.”

“Good good.” the Supreme Commander nodded, pressing his lips together. “I know you're not happy about it, Cavill. But, it could be good for you. You're not getting any younger.”

Henry's lips pursed and his eyes rolled shut. “So, people keep telling me.” He said, through gritted teeth.

“Well, why don't you take some time off, I know this case wore you out and you'll probably need some time to train her.”

“Yeah.” Henry answered, curtly.

“Good job, Cavill. I'm sure returning back home to Sector Two is going to feel like a dream, after being down there for three months.”

“You can say that.” Henry replied, brooding darkly.

“Well, I'll let you off.” Reyes sighed. “Good job, Cavill.”

“Thanks.” He growled, then hung up.

“So,” You whimpered, as Henry slid into the driver's seat. “You're a Marshal?”

“Yes.” Henry nodded, entering his life pin and directed the car towards home, back in Sector Two. “I'm a High Marshal.” He elaborated, slumping, exhaustively, into his seat.

“You must really be someone then.” You mumbled, staring at your hands.

Henry huffed, chuckling softly. “My father is a Supreme Cleric and my mother is a High Royal.” He confessed to you, closing his eyes.

He was an Upper, you realized, a high class Upper at that. “Why aren't you a Cleric?” You asked, knowing it was strange for a person with ties to those Councils to pick a lower occupation.

“My three older brothers are Clerics, of varying degrees, and my youngest brother is a Beta Royal.” Henry explained, not opening his eyes. “I wanted to do something that wasn't spent behind a desk, ninety-nine percent of the time, and the Council of Marshals gave me that.” He turned his head and looked over at you.

“What about you?” He asked, curiously, figuring if your lives were tied together now, he might as well get to know you.

“I was born in Sector Twenty-Eight, I'm just a lowly Stocker.” You told him, shyly, and slightly ashamed.

“There's nothing wrong with that.” Henry said, seeing your discomfort. “We all have our roles to play.” He said, offering you a soft smile.

You were mostly quiet the rest of the way, curiously looking out the windows. You'd never been in a car before, and the further the car took you, the better the Sectors got. As you passed through Sector Nine, the area grew brighter, until you finally reached mid-Sector Eight and the sun filled the cabin of the car, making you blink at its brightness, your mouth falling open. Henry looked over at you, a soft smirk crossing his lips as he witnessed your awe at seeing the sun for the first time in your life.

“Pretty cool, huh.” He said, when you noticed him looking at you.

“It's beautiful.” You replied, leaning forward, and looked up at the blue-ish sky, and the incredibly white clouds floating by, you were so full of wonder and disbelief at the sight of it.

Henry hadn't fully realized how much he had taken seeing the sun and sky for granted, as he did watching you marvel at it. You and Henry finally made it to Sector Two, the novelty of the sun hadn't worn off on you, it only seemed to deepen with better access to it and the sky it lingered in. You were a little sad, when the door to Henry's parking garage opened and you went inside, blocking the light out again.

“Home sweet home.” Henry sighed and pressed a button that opened both doors of the car.

You got out of the car, slipping your arms through the sleeves of Henry's jacket, as you followed him to the lift and took the ride up to his floor. You were surprised by how nice and clean everything was, but then again, you knew you really shouldn't be. It was Sector Two after all, there was only one more Sector above it, so everything was crisp, clean, new and perfect. Henry entered his life pin into his door and pushed it open.

“Oh, shit.” Henry snapped at your startled gasp of a giant black and white creature bounded at the door. “Sorry, we haven't seen each other in three months. He's just excited, and harmless.” He assured you, getting Kal under control enough for you to enter. “Who's a good dog? Kal is.” Henry cooed at the Akita.

“He's a dog?” You asked, blinking at the two of them.

Kal was easily the biggest dog you had ever seen, mostly because all of the dogs in your Sector were skin and bone mutts. But, he was huge and clearly well-fed and taken care of.

“He is.” Henry laughed at your expression. “He's an Akita.” He explained to you.

“Here.”

Henry held his hand out to you and you took it, letting him bring your hand to the back of Kal's head and rested your palm on his soft black and white fur. You jerked slightly, feeling Kal react to your touch, but you kept your hand in place, and gently started petting him. He was a good dog, very gentle and patient.

“See.” Henry smiled at the two of you.

You smiled back at him, nodding. “Yeah.”

You kept petting Kal, giggling as he turned his head to lick your hand, his fluffy and curled tail wagging happily as you gave him attention.

“Are you hungry?” Henry asked, hearing your stomach growl.

“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip, it had been quite a while since you had eaten.

“I'll get us something to eat then.” He said, smiling softly at you, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Henry pulled up a menu, on a screen built into one of the kitchen walls, and scrolled through several food options on it, pressing his lips together as he tried to decide what to get that both of you would like, then grinned at one of the options. Selecting the option and customizing it, Henry hit the order button and went back into the living area.

“All right, there's some food coming in a couple of minutes.” He told you, seeing you sitting cross legged on the floor, Kal half in your lap as you continued love on him. “Hm.” He frowned at you, seeing your filthy and torn clothing, just then noticing you weren't wearing any shoes, just a pair of dirty and hole filled socks.

“How about we get you some clothing?” He suggested.

You looked down at your torn and blood covered jeans, your shirt, hidden beneath Henry's jacket, was in even worse shape. “Is that possible?” You asked, looking back up at Henry.

“It is.” He nodded at you. “Do you know what size you wear?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

“Yeah.” You nodded and told him your size.

“Lucy.” Henry called out.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” the AI responded immediately.

“Can you please get her some comfortable clothing.” He requested, and gave the AI your clothing size.

“Of course, Mr. Cavill.” Lucy complied.

“I just realized, I haven't asked your name.” Henry shook his head, feeling like a fool.

“Oh.” You chuckled, shyly, and gave him your name. “But, many people just usually call me, Issy.” You added, licking your lips.

“Why's that?” He asked, hearing the ding from the delivery pod.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don't know.” You replied, biting your cheek. “They've always called me it, and I've never bothered asking.” You explained to him.

Henry nodded and turned, opening the door to the pod and pulled out a blue plastic wrapped package from it. “Here.” He held it out to you. “The bathroom is right over here. You can take a shower as well, if you like.” He said and went into the bathroom, hanging up a towel for you and set a washcloth on the edge of the sink.

“Thank you.” You whispered, carefully taking the package from him and went into the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you and locked it, before turning and looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked as horrible as you felt. Your hair was filthy and dull, your face was bruised and cut up from your beatings. Sighing, you slipped out of Henry's jacket and peeled off your grubby clothing, dropping them on the floor. Biting your lip, you turned to Henry's shower and manually turned it on, getting the water to the temperature you wanted, before stepping inside with the washcloth. Moaning, as the warm water washed over your grimy, sore and multicolored skin, easing away several tight knots you had. You turned to the automatic soap dispenser, and the scent of sandalwood and dark amber touched your nose, as the soap was squeezed into your open palm and the washcloth.

You finished your shower and was pleasantly surprised by the towel being warm as you pulled it off the rack, reaching out to touch the bar you found it was warm as well. “Huh.” You smiled and dried off.

Opening the package Henry had given you, you found a pair of white socks, gray sweatpants and a light blue tank top. The fabric was clearly top quality and felt soft to the touch, true to your size, they fit perfectly and were incredibly comfortable. Back home, you were used to your clothing not fitting well, even in your size, and the fabric tended to be rough, itchy and low quality. You almost didn't want to wear them, so you didn't get them dirty, and you were sure when you got home, someone would try and take them from you.

“Feel better?” Henry asked, smiling at you as you finally came out of the bathroom, washed and dressed.

“A lot.” You replied, biting your lip and shyly brushing your wet hair behind your ear.

“Good.” He nodded, relieved. “Food's here too.” He said, pointing to a chair across from him at the dining table.

You sat down across from him, as he opened a large, square box that sat between you, a super good smell coming from it. There was a round object in the box, cut into several sections, which Henry pulled apart, carefully putting a piece on a plate and set it down in front of you, then did the same for himself.

“Have you never had pizza before?” He asked, after swallowing the first bite of his slice of cheese pizza.

You shook your head at him. “No.” You replied, picking up the steaming slice and taking a careful bite of it, like you expected it to blow up or be drugged, or something.

“It's super good.” Henry said, taking another bite of his. “I went through a pizza phase, when I was younger. It was the only thing I ate for almost a year.” He laughed, watching you chew your bite, an investigative expression on your face.

“What's the verdict?” He asked, once you finally swallowed.

“I like it.” You smiled, nodding your head, vigorously, at him and took a bigger bite.

Henry grinned brightly at you. “We have a winner, then.” He said, relieved, and got stuck in, eating another slice himself. “So, how did you end up there, in the Trafficker's warehouse?” Henry asked, after you both finished eating and still sat at the table, sipping warm cups of tea.

You bit your lip, staring into your cup.

“It's a long way from Sector Twenty-Eight to Sector Thirty-One.” He pointed out, resting back in his seat and tilting his head at you.

You nodded your head at him, still reluctant to speak to him about why you were there, afraid that if you admitted you were down there to look for your Runner brother, that Mikey would end up getting arrested and banished outside the wall.

“I was looking for my brother.” You mumbled, taking a sip of your cup.

“What's he doing down there?”

“He got in a fight with our parents over something, and went down there to stay with a friend.” You told him, giving him the bare minimum facts. “I went down there looking for him, to try and get him to come back home, and patch things up with them.”

“That's very sweet of you.”

Henry pointed out, brows knitting together. He had been a High Marshal for far too long, he could tell when someone was hiding something, but he didn't press you for it; knowing it would come out eventually.

“When will I get to go home?” You asked him again, feeling a sick knot in your stomach, not looking up at him.

“We'll talk about it in the morning.” Henry told you, shifting uncomfortably, knowing he was going to have to tell you the whole truth at some point soon. “Why don't you just get some rest, you look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a long time.” He said, biting the inside of his lip.

You nodded, the knot in your stomach growing. “You can say that.”

Henry sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair. “You can sleep in the spare room.” He said, moving towards the guest room his flat had, going inside and pulling down the blankets for you. “If you need anything, you can ask Lucy, or my room's right over there.” He pointed to the door to his bedroom down the hall from the guest room.

“Okay.” You mumbled, standing shyly on the other side of the bed.

“Good night.” Henry bid you, stopping in the doorway.

“Good night.” You replied, giving him a soft smile.

Returning the smile, Henry went down to his own room and got ready for bed, slipping between the sheets. “Lucy, turn the lights out, but leave the light in the hallway on.”

“Yes, sir.” Lucy replied.

You looked up at the light in the guest room as they went off, but saw the light in the hall still on, throwing some light into the room, so it wasn't pitch dark. You gasped and jerked, almost jumping out of bed, as a heavy thud dropped onto the other side of the bed, but relaxed feeling the warm lick of Kal's tongue on your hand. Turning, you draped an arm over his large body, burying your face into his furry side, muffling your sniffles and tears, and crying yourself to sleep.

– –

Henry woke up as usual in the morning and got out of bed, but he was careful about the noise he made, not wishing to wake you yet. He poured himself a cup of coffee, sipping it for a couple of minutes, before he found himself standing in your half open bedroom door, his shoulder resting on the door frame. He knew he had to tell you about now being his servant, that he didn't want.

Not that he didn't want you..

“That sounds stupid.” Henry said quietly to himself, shaking his head. “What am I going to do.” He sighed, going back into the living room.

Finishing his cup of coffee, Henry pulled out a set of weights, and started working out, it always helped him think and organize himself.

You woke up with a streak of sunlight in your face, you opened eyes and stared out the half open window shade. The way that that small shred of light alone made your face warm was nice, and with the added warmth of Kal's massive body pressed up against yours, you had a light sheen of sweat over your body. The smell of coffee reached you through your half open door, but there was also a series of grunts and huffs coming from the direction of the living room.

Frowning, you slowly got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall and peaked around the corner. You saw Henry holding a pair of kettlebells close to his chest and doing squats, soft grunts coming from his slightly parted lips, nostrils flaring with huffs as he stood back up. He was shirtless and wearing a loose pair of sweatpants, and sweaty from his exercise, muscles rippling with each motion; it was nothing you had ever seen before. You probably would have continued to watch him, frozen in place, until Kal barked and raced down the hall and sailed into the living room, colliding with Henry's legs.

“Kal!” Henry huffed, shaking his head at the Akita, then set his kettlebells down. “Oh.” He gasped, finally noticing you. “Morning.” He smiled, shyly, tugging a small towel out of his sweatpants pocket and wiped his face.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked, looking around for a second, before snagging his tank top off the arm of the couch.

“I guess.” You replied, biting your lip as he pulled his shirt back on. “You?”

“Same as always.” Henry sighed, resting on the arm of the couch.

“You're not going to take me home, are you?” You blurted out, staring down at his bare feet.

Henry froze, looking at you wide eyed.

“I might just be some Slummer, but even I know, that the Marshal Council doesn't take people to their home, like this.” You said, glancing up at him for a split moment.

Henry sighed and ran a hand through his sweaty curls. “You're right.” He frowned, chewing on his lip. “I was undercover, for three months, in the Thirty Sectors. I was tasked with infiltrating one of the biggest Slave Traffickers in London, to bust them and stop their operations.” He started to explain to you, pushing off the couch and pouring another cup of coffee.

“I figured, like so many of other Slaver Raids, that I would find out where they were operating, confirm they had kidnapped people, call my Supreme, and the Command Marshals would do the rest.” He offered you the cup, but took a sip of it, when you shook your head.

“But?” You pressed, torn with being overwhelmingly angry and horrified.

“But, I was told I would have to make a purchase, to further confirm the activity.” Henry replied, ashamed of himself. “So, I asked how much they wanted for you and paid the six thousand credits. I thought after that, they would just interview you and send you back home to Sector Twenty-Eight. But, my boss informed me that the transaction I made for you, was _final_.”

“ _Final._ ” You echoed around a tight throat.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, meeting your eye, sadly. “Meaning, you..”

“I'm now your property.” You said, seeing spots in your eyes. “Your slave and servant.”

“I want to take you home, I don't want you.” He said, trying to get you to believe him. “As property, that is. You have to believe me.”

“Then, why don't you let me go home?” You asked him, trying to blink the spots away. “If I'm _your property_ , then you can do whatever you wish with me. Like release me from servitude.”

“I can't.” Henry replied, worried by the look on your face. “At least, not yet. We have to close out the case first, because, until then, you are a verified witness. You're more than likely to be asked to testify against them. Also, you're not completely safe, either.”

“Why?” You asked, slowly.

“You are a witness to the business of the easiest, third largest Trafficker in London, Oron “Twist” Monroe. He will no doubt have business partners, associates and the like, going out of their way to get rid of anyone that can testify against him, and them, causing their arrest and banishment.” He explained to you, standing up.

“Effectively, destroying their business and their revenue.”

“So, they'll want to kill me, so they can keep their filthy business and blood money.”

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, softly.

“What about the rest of my family?” You asked, feeling sick to your stomach. “My parents and little brother.”

“As long as they don't know anything or aren't outed for having a connection to you.” Henry replied. “They should be safe.”

“Oh, god.” You sighed, pressing your hands to your face.

“Here,” He rested his hands on your shoulders and steered you to the couch. “Sit. Before, you faint.”

“So, the only way to keep them safe, is to stay here, with you.” You said, taking slow deep breaths.

“For yours as well.” He nodded, sitting next to you and rubbed your back. “I wouldn't let anything happen to you. I promised to take care of you. Once this is all blown over, I'll take you back home. For good.”

“Until then?” You asked, looking over at him.

Henry took a heavy breath. “Until then, we need to keep up appearances.” He told you, pressing his lips together.

“Slave and owner.” You huffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

“I hate it, just as much as you do.” Henry said, rolling his jaw and absolutely hating the sound of it. “But, we'll get through this, I promise.”

You nodded at him, trying to make the best of the situation, there wasn't anything you could do about it, rules were rules and the law was the law. “So, what do you want me to do?”

Henry gently touched your cheek with his thumb. “While we're alone, I don't own you. Do what you wish, just don't blow the place up.” He chuckled, trying to lighten your mood.

“Okay.” You replied, smiling a little bit.

“I should set Lucy up for you.” He said, getting up and going to the screen in the kitchen. “What's your life pin?” He called over to you.

You gulped and bit your lip. “I don't have one.” You mumbled.

“Come again.” Henry frowned, tilting his head at you.

“I don't have a life pin.” You said a little bit louder. “My brother and I were born at home.”

Henry blinked at you a couple of times, then nodded his head. “Right, okay.” He glanced around, trying to figure something out. “Can you read?” He asked, knowing that a good deal of people from Lower Sectors were illiterate, putting more stock in work, than in education.

“A little bit.” You replied, shyly.

“All right.” He picked up a notepad and wrote down his own life pin. “Come here.”

You got up and approached him, taking the pad from him. “1318.” You read off of it, looking up at Henry to make sure you got it correct.

“Good.” He nodded. “You can use mine, until we can get you one of your own, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded back, repeating the number over and over again in your head, committing it to memory.

“Very good.” Henry smiled and playfully pat you on the head.

Your cheeks warmed at Henry's pat. “What do you normally do, when you're here at home?” You asked him.

“I'm actually not home much.” He replied, biting his lip. “I'm a workaholic. So, I'm only home long enough to sleep, shower and change. Before I'm back at my office or running some cases.”

“So, you'll be off then?”

“No, I've been given some time off. Three months undercover is hard work.” He explained, feeling his mouth go dry. “And to _train_ you.” He said, awkwardly.

“Is that so?” You huffed, lifting a brow at him. “Why aren't you treating me, like everyone else would, if I belonged to them?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Because, I don't like the idea of owning someone.” Henry replied, narrowing his eyes back at you. “Owning another human being, puts a bad taste in my mouth. If it was a servant that wasn't my own, but just worked for me, like a maid or something, it wouldn't bother me, cause they would be free to come and go, outside of their work hours. But, this.” He motioned to you. “You're stuck with me, to do what I say, when I say. I'm meant to take care of you, more or less. To make sure you're fed, clothed and healthy, while waiting on me, hand and foot.”

“That's incredibly strange feelings for an Upper.” You pointed out to him.

“I know it is, and I get shit for it. A lot.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I can look after myself, and I have been, for the last fifteen years, since I got my job as a High Marshal and moved out on my own. But, seems everyone wants to press a servant and a slave on me, because _'I'm not getting any younger.'_ ”

“What's that got to do with it?” You asked, innocently.

“By now, I should have married and had at least one kid.” Henry answered, feeling awkward, he didn't like talking about this. “But, I've only been in one relationship, we were engaged for a few months, before I found out she was cheating on me, and we broke up. I haven't been interested in a relationship ever since.”

“But, the stigma of having a wife and offspring, is a huge deal. It's basically a status thing.”

You shook your head at him. “Uppers are strange.” You commented, frowning. “My parents were called fools; when they had my little brother, Christophe, because they already had me and my twin brother. _'You already have a boy and a girl, why would you want another mouth to feed?_ ' It's hard feeding just two mouths down there, let alone three kids. But, my parents didn't care. They didn't plan on having him, he just happened. But, they don't regret him, or neglect him.”

“Why would they neglect him?”

“A lot of Slummer families neglect their kids, in general.” You answered, making a face. “Most Slummers only want one child, because it's so hard to feed themselves and that one. But, ideally, they want two. So, if one of their kids dies, from illness, their job or what have you, they have the other one to carry on the family name and all that. But, having more than two, is very looked down upon, like you're being selfish or something. So, if a couple accidentally has a third or more, they neglect them in favor of the older two.”

“One of the families on my level, the mother got pregnant for a third time,” You swallowed around the lump in your throat remembering the little boy. “They would leave him out in the hallway, for hours and hours on end, not feeding him or changing his soiled nappy. He'd scream the whole time. But, secretly, my mum and a couple of the other mums on our level would take him in, treat his nappy rash and feed him, and all that, before putting him back.”

“What happened to him?” Henry asked, horrified.

“I don't know.” You shrugged, timidly. “I was about ten at the time, and just remember it being quiet in the hall one day, and he wasn't there anymore. I don't know, if the family relented and brought him in finally, if someone took him into their own care, if the Council of Daily Operations took him to the orphanage, or he...died.”

“Jesus.” Henry mumbled, running a hand through his hair and shook his head, astonished at how different their two worlds, in the same city, really were; one expected you to have as many kids as you could pop out and the other expected you to have almost none at all.

You shrugged a shoulder, almost numb to it, you'd seen the same thing over and over again in your life in the Lower Sectors. Knowing that many of the third or fourth kids in a family to be abused, beaten and starved, simply because they were born out of order, several were even orphaned, thrown out on the street as young and five or six years old. It made you feel lucky, and proud, to have a set of parents like yours, that loved you, Mikey and Chris, no matter the burden it clearly put on them to feed the three of you and the disrespect they received for taking such good care of Chris, despite being number three. You had seen both your father and Mikey, bloody more than a few noses, when someone tried being cruel to your little brother, not allowing them to be mean and bully him, or how your mother refused to let those words and actions hurt Chris into feeling like a burden and unwanted, because the four of you did love him and wanted him in the family, and that he sure as hell wasn't a burden on the family, either.

“Well,” Henry sighed, breaking both of you out of your dark thoughts. “Since I don't have to go into work, we can go down to the Daily Operations Council Headquarters and get the paperwork started for your life pin.” He said, moving around you to go into his room and dress.

“Okay. But, um..” You blinked down at your socked feet. “I need shoes.” You pointed out to him as he came back in a pair of jeans and V-neck shirt.

“Right, that's rather important.” He nodded, looking down at your feet too. “Lucy, can you please order a pair of shoes for her.” He asked out loud.

Ten minutes later, a pair of black and gray trainers, in your size, dropped into the delivery pod for you. Henry chuckled as you slipped your feet into them and frowned, not seeing any laces.

“You just need to press this.” He said, pointing out a small logo on the side of your trainer. “When you want to tighten them.” He explained, pressing it, and your shoes automatically tightened around your feet.

“That's really cool.” You gasped, grinning up at him, impressed and wowed.

“You'll get used to the technology up here in no time.” He assured you. “You can wear my hoodie, it's a bit nippy outside today.” He said, pulling a dark blue hoodie out of a small closet by the door and handed it to you, then pulled out a green one for himself.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, pulling his hoodie on, the subtle and dark scent of his cologne met your nose as the garment settled around you, making you smirk to yourself about how big, but comfortable, it was on you.

Henry smiled back at you, just as amused by the size difference, before opening the door for you and leading the way back down to the car. The driver and passenger doors opened as Henry entered his life pin and gave the car directions to the Council of Daily Operations headquarters, turning the radio on low.

“Is the sun always up?” You asked as the garage door opened, revealing the bright, mid-morning sun.

“No.” Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “It sets around seven-thirty at night and rises again around six in the morning.” He explained to you.

You blinked and leaned forward, looking at the little droplets hitting the windshield.

“It does rain down there, doesn't it?” Henry asked, frowning at you.

“It does.” You replied, gently touching the window. “But, by the time it reaches, it's filthy and polluted. I've never seen the rain look so clean, you could almost drink it.”

Henry smiled softly at you, your, almost child-like, wonder about things in the Upper Sector, that he had seen and dealt with all his life, was refreshing to him, giving them an almost novel feeling to him. It didn't take long to reach the headquarters of the Council of Daily Operations, but the line was long for a Monday morning, people from all the city coming to the headquarters for one reason or another, job changes, insurance needs and whatever other needs one would need from the Council.

“Just take a seat, and I'll be right back.” Henry said, motioning to a seating area, then approached one of the shorter lines.

You glanced around the brightly lit building, noting the exhausted, almost disinterested looking, D.O workers that stood behind the long counter separating them from their clients. You side eyed the four or five other people sitting near you, they were clearly servants and slaves to people standing in line, waiting for their owners to finish whatever work they had come to complete. It was easy to tell who they were, by the almost lights out expression on their faces, their clearly secondhand clothing, given to them by their owners that didn't care what their size was, or if they were mismatched, and the glaring evidence, their Ownership bracelets. The snug bracelet around their left wrists, that only their owners could remove, with an ownership pin, had a digital screen on the front with their names on it, cause owners couldn't be bothered committing them to their memory, and a bar code on the back, to be scanned, in case their owners needed to be identified, in the event of an accident, while they were out running errands and gotten hurt, or if the slave or servant had tried to running away, and could be returned to them.

“You must be new.” One of them said to you.

“What?” You frowned over at him.

“I said, you must be new.” He repeated himself and motioned to your bracelet free wrist. “He hasn't registered you for a bracelet yet.”

You looked over to Henry, just as he made it to the counter and felt a sick feeling in your stomach.

“It doesn't hurt.” another of them said, seeing your face. “It's not tight enough to cut off circulation or anything, but it does itch for the first week.”

The rest of them nodded, agreeing with her statement and absentmindedly rubbed at their bracelets. You wonder if Henry had lied to you about supposedly getting you a life pin, and was really there to register you for a bracelet, and felt stupid for trusting an Upper.

“Life pin?” the Operations Officer asked, when Henry stopped at her counter. “Reason for visit?” She asked, after Henry entered his pin.

“I need to start paperwork for a life pin.” Henry told her, glancing at you over his shoulder, noticing you talking to the Servants near you. “She doesn't have one.” He added, looking back at the Officer.

“What's her name?” the Officer asked and typed it into her system, when Henry offered it. “Occupation.”

Henry cleared his throat, knowing that if he admitted you were, technically, his Servant, or even his Slave, that's what she would put down and would then require him to register you as such and slap a bracelet on you.

“Stocker, Sector Twenty-Eight.”

“What is your relationship to her?” the Officer asked, looking away from her screen to lift a brow at him.

“Personal.” Henry replied, his face authoritative, but blank.

The Officer stared at Henry for a moment, then shrugged and filled in his relationship to you as personal, and unspecified. She filled in a few more fields she needed too, before transferring the application to an electronic notepad and slid it across the counter to Henry.

“Fill in the remaining fields and return it within six business days.” She instructed him.

“Thanks.” He replied, taking up the notepad and left the counter. “All done, just need to fill out the rest of the paperwork and send it in.” He said as he approached you with a smile. “But, we can do that back home.”

“Okay.” You said, standing up and nodding your head politely to the servants you had been talking to.

“Let's grab some breakfast, I'm sure you're hungry.” Henry said on the lift down to the car. “I know I'm starving.”

“I am.” You nodded, keeping your eyes forward.

Henry frowned at your odd tone, but brushed it off. He directed the car to take you both to one of his favorite breakfast places and sat in a booth with you, letting you order what you wanted, before ordering himself.

“All right.” He sighed, activating the notepad and moved to the first empty section of it. “Birthday?” He asked, looking up at you.

“February twenty-second, 2844.” You replied, staring at your pancakes.

“Height?”

You shook your head at him.

“Hm.” He hummed, biting his lip and did a bit of math in his head, using his own height and where you came to him as a guess, then marked your height down as 164cm. “Do you know your blood type?”

“AB Positive.” You replied, finally picking up your fork. “My mum had us all checked, she's an A&E nurse for our Sector's hospital.”

“Smart woman.” He smirked at you. “Just a couple more and we'll be done.” He said, setting it down by his plate and started eating his own breakfast. “Then, you'll have your pin in no time.” He smiled at you, but cooled seeing your reserved expression.

“What's wrong?” He frowned at you.

“Nothing.”

Henry frowned a little bit more, but didn't press you on it, and you both ate breakfast in relative silence. “I'll be right back, I need to go to the bathroom, before we go.” He said, excusing himself from the table and disappearing into the bathroom.

While, Henry was away, you picked up the notepad and looked it over, most of it made no sense to you, but you could read just enough, to realize Henry had actually done what he said he was, getting you a life pin, not a ownership bracelet, and that he had listed your occupation as a Stocker for your Sector's supermarket, and that he had withheld his actual relationship with you being his property, for being personal. You set the notepad back down and rested back in your seat, as Henry came back and sat down.

“Why did you lie about our relationship?” You asked him, bluntly.

Henry's eyes went to the notepad, then met yours again. “Because, if I told them you were my property, it would have made sending you back home harder. There's paperwork to release ownership of someone, unless they're _damaged_ , in some way. Seeing as you aren't damaged, the paperwork would have taken months to fill out and be approved, and you can't just send someone back until that happens.”

“Why?”

“Because, then I can lose my job and get stuck with a fuck load of fines for illegal release of a Slave and Servant. This way, when the time comes, I just send you back to Sector Twenty-Eight, no questions asked, no paperwork.”

“But, your boss knows that I'm your property and that you bought me.” You countered.

“Yes, he does. But, the Council of Daily Operations won't care what he says, since there's no paperwork, in their system, stating that you are, in fact, my slave.” He told you, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I've been a High Marshall for sixteen years, love, and given my family's ranking in this city, I know how the law works, and I know how to get around it, without actually breaking any rules.”

“Must be nice.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It has its benefits.” He nodded. “While you're looking for damn near any reason not to trust me, when I've done nothing to cause you too.”

“You're an Upper and a High Marshal, I'm not meant to trust you.” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“That's your choice.” Henry told you. “It's not anything I've done to cause it. I saved your life from that hell hole, and am doing everything in my power to take care of you, until you can go home again. If you insist on making that harder, by questioning and mistrusting everything I do between now and then, is of your own doing. If you want, I can live up to your distrust and go back to the Council of Daily Operations and get you an Ownership bracelet? Then, not allow you to return home at all.” He added, almost coldly.

“Your choice.”

You took a deep breath and let it out with a huff, knowing Henry was right, it was the best course of action.

“I didn't think so.” He said, picking the notepad back up and you both finished filling it out.

– –

'1928'

You typed into the door pad of Henry's flat in Sector Two, your week old life pin, as you returned from taking Kal on an afternoon walk.

You had gotten your life pin, actually feeling excited about it, and Henry had added you onto his flat's AI account, allowing you to come and go a bit more freely. Henry himself had returned to work for the Council of Marshals, leaving you alone with Kal more often, so you took care of the Bear, making sure his water and food bowls were filled, and fully enjoyed taking him on walks, so you could enjoy the beautiful New Hyde Park that was a ten minute walk away from the flat. The weather never stopped you, you loved the clean rain that fell, you loved the bright, warm sunlight and the clean fresh air.

“Oh.” You started, pressing a hand to your heart, as Henry appeared out of the kitchen.

“Sorry.” He chuckled.

“You're home early.” You said, taking Kal's leash off and glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Yeah, there weren't any new cases today, so I decided to just do my paperwork from home.” Henry explained, taking a sip of his coffee and moving to sit at his work desk, that was pushed up against one of the windows.

“Ah.” You nodded, going into the kitchen and had Lucy make you a cup of tea, that you took to the couch and turned on the huge flat screen tv Henry had.

“Who cheated this time?” Henry asked, not looking over his shoulder as he heard you humph at the tv.  
“Elden.” You replied, shaking your head at the tv.

Henry turned in his seat. “Didn't he cheat last week?” He asked, frowning at the screen.

“On Cake week, yeah.” You nodded. “He purposely swapped Rosemary's sugar with salt. Now, he kicked the wall by Mark's oven, making his souffle fall flat.”

“That's fucked.” Henry barked, getting up and sitting down beside you on the couch. “Why haven't they kicked him?”

“I don't know.” You huffed, outraged. “It's totally rigged.” You complained.

“Voter submissions are the pits.” He agreed, scowling at the screen.

You and Henry had really bonded over The Great London Bake Off show, agreeing that the people eliminated by viewer voting system was completely set up, people loved watching the cheaters win, than the bakers that actually had talent. The two of you had binged the first four seasons together, after Henry had found out you had never seen it, being that you didn't have a tv back home. Henry had gotten into the show as a way to unwind from the exhausting and often gruesome work as a High Marshal, something about cake and bread baking really relaxed him. You thoroughly enjoyed it as well, seeing confections and baked goods you had never before, and the novelty of watching tv. Henry had even introduced you to several of the things you saw on the show.

Cookies were a huge hit with you.

“He's so going to win.” You said to yourself, while you got ready for bed.

“Who is?” Henry asked, having heard you on his way to bed.

“Elden.” You answered. “He's going to end up winning the Bake Off. He's gotten top Baker four times, in a row, already.” You said, getting into bed.

“I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.” He agreed with you, annoyed by it as well.

“So stupid.” You huffed, shaking your head at the idea.

Henry chuckled, amused by how much he had corrupted you with the show, and continued down to his own room.

– –

You had gotten up a few hours later to go to the bathroom, so you could relieve your screaming bladder. When, on your way back to bed, you heard Kal whining down the hall, outside of Henry's closed bedroom door. Figuring the Akita just wanted to snuggle with him, you padded down the hall, patting him on the head, and quietly opened Henry's door for him, then turned to go back to bed. But, you hadn't made it three steps, when you heard another whine, with a completely different tone. You turned around and saw Kal was still sitting where he was, looking up at you.

“Kal?” You frowned at him.

The whine came again, not from Kal, but inside Henry's room.

Moving back to the door, you peeked inside, and saw Henry laying on his back in bed. Even from the weak light coming through his open bedroom window, you could see his pinched brow, a whimper leaving his slightly parted lips again. You looked down at Kal, like he would tell you what to do, then stepped quietly into Henry's bedroom.

“Henry?” You whispered, softly, not wanting to startle him awake.

But, he didn't stir to the sound of your voice, just whimpered again, his head shaking, like he was trying to get himself to wake up, and couldn't, before rolling onto his side. Your heart clenched at the sound and the expression on his face. You were, by now, used to Henry's face being mostly tired looking, from the god awful hours he worked, but either happy or unamused, which you called his ' _Marshal Look_ '.

But, the expression you saw on his face was one of pure anguish.

“Henry.” You called his name again, a little bit lowered this time, stopping at the side of his bed.

But again, he didn't stir.

You slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, resting your hand on his muscular arm, his skin cool under your warm palm. It was obvious that Henry was having a nightmare, a bad one, by the looks of it. Biting your lip and carefully lifting your hand to his hair, you gently touch his still wild curls, tenderly stroking them off his sweaty temple and hummed, sweetly. When you and Mikey were younger, Mikey would have terrible nightmares, often waking you up, because the two of you still shared a room at the time. You would stay up, stroking his hair, rubbing his back and humming to him, until he was soothed and found a better sleep.

It seemed that Henry needed the same attention and care.

You didn't doubt he had seen some horrible things as a High Marshal for a decade and a half, murders, assaults, Traffickers and other things you couldn't imagine. It would be a surprise if Henry _didn't_ have nightmares about them. You smiled at him, watching the cease between his brows slowly smooth out and his big body melt into his mattress as you carded your fingers through his hair, so soft and thick. He moaned as your fingertips touched the nape of his neck, a teeny smile twitching at the corners of his lips, making you chuckle at him; playfully tickling the back of his neck, before brushing your fingers through his hair again.

Henry suddenly took a deep breath and you froze, expecting him to wake up, but he let the breath out, completely relaxing.

“Sleep well, Henry.” You whispered and touched his scruffy cheek for a moment, then got up, and tip toed back to bed.

– –

“Someone slept well.” You grinned, the next morning as Henry came into the living room, a smile on his face.

“I did.” Henry chuckled, flushing a little bit. “I did have a bit of a nightmare, but it didn't last.” He told you, popping into the kitchen for his usual morning coffee. “Thankfully.” He added, coming back into the living room.

“What was the nightmare about?” You asked, curiously.

Henry paused for a moment, the rim of his black coffee cup frozen at his lips.

“You won't put me off, I promise.” You assured him, you were very curious about what dream you had apparently saved him from.

“Um..” He cleared his throat and finished getting a sip of the steaming brown liquid. “I had a case, in Sector Ten.” He started, resting back on the couch, beside you. “It was a double homicide.”

You blinked at him, then leaned forward for your cup of tea, cradling the cup in your hands, covered by the sleeves of Henry's dark blue hoodie, that you have since taken ownership of. “That's horrible.” You said, frowning sympathetically at him.

“In its own right, it really is.” He agreed, his cerulean blue eyes losing focus. “We didn't know that the two murders were related, until a day later. The first one, a Jeffry Baker, was a Sub-Blue dealer, who was really moving up in the world, he had some seriously high profile clients for the drug.”

“What would Uppers want with Sub-Blue?” You asked, pulling your legs up to your chest and resting your tea cup on your knees.

Henry dropped his chin to his chest and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “I assume, by that statement, you don't know what Sub-Blue does.”

“I know it gets people higher than Coke and Heroin.” You told him, confused by his statement.

“Well, it's _how_ it gets people high, that makes it that dangerous.” Henry said, biting the inside corner of his lip. “It was originally a painkiller, but there were a couple of side effects that caused the Royal and Cleric Councils to take it out of use. For whatever reason, even with the side effects they deemed, 'dangerous and life threatening', production of the drug never stopped.”

“What are the side effects?”

“One of them is a blue tint to your eyes that can become permanent with prolonged use.” He explained to you. “But, the top side effect was, while it did help treat pain, it stopped people's ability to feel at all. And, I don't just mean _feelings_. I mean,” He reached out and gently touched your arm. “You wouldn't be able to feel that.”

“It would basically deaden your nerves..”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Not being able to feel any pain or touch, basically, and dangerously, makes you invincible. I mean, think about, if you rob a store and a Beta Marshal tried shooting or stunning you and you can't feel any of it.”

“They can't stop you.”

“Exactly. Blues, what we call the users, also don't feel things like, being tired or needing to eat. So, you can use it to keep you awake to crash course a test, or to even lose weight. It has a use for almost everything, for anyone. So, a Sub-Blue Dealer, like Baker, can easily make a couple thousand credits on just one buyer.”

“But, someone killed him?” You were terrifyingly engrossed in the story.

“Very badly.” Henry nodded. “The same day..”

“Wait, wait, how did he die?” You asked, turning to face him, resting your back against the arm of the couch.

“You don't wanna know, trust me.” Henry told you, shaking his head. “We both don't need nightmares.”

“I'm not scared.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “He had his head bashed in with a pipe, then got set on fire.”

Your eyes grew as he described it. “Oh.” You gulped and cleared your throat.

“We had to identify him with dentals.”

“That's horrible.”

“Very.” Henry said softly. “The same day, a Gate Guard found an arm on his way to work.”

“An arm?” You echoed, chewing on her lip.

“Mmhm.” Henry nodded and took another gulp of his cooling coffee. “He called it in, and we had Alpha Marshals go out and investigate the area, once they found about seventy percent of the victim's body, us High Marshals went in to do further investigations. But, we didn't find anything out until the next day, when the Coroner finished his examination, and we realized the two were linked.”

“How were they linked?”

“The second victim was a known Blue. He was also a Low Cleric from Sector Four, Trevis Willborne. He would go down to Sector Ten to buy from Jeffry, it was an open secret.”

“Wouldn't that cause him to lose his job, for using an illegal drug, while in the service of his duties?” You asked him, surprised.

“You would think.” Henry huffed, shaking his head. “But, his father is a Beta Royal, so he was probably using his status, so Trevis to keep his job.”

“Must be nice to have such connections.” You snorted, shaking your head, appalled.

Henry nodded his head, agreeing with you.

“Did you find out why they died and who did it?”

“After going undercover for a month, I found out that Jeffry's death had been ordered by a Crime Lord from Bristol. Apparently, Jeffry was skimming money off the top, taking more money for his sales, then was agreed upon when he started dealing.”

“And Trevis?”

“He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time.” Henry frowned. “He was there, buying from Baker, when the thugs tasked with killing him showed up. Not wanting any witnesses, they killed both of them. But, afraid of just leaving a Low Cleric's dead body lying around, because it gathers too much attention, they took his body, dismembered him and dumped the parts across the Sector, hoping they wouldn't be found out.”

“You saw all of this?” You asked, tilting your head at him.

“Baker's beaten and charred remains, and the body parts they recovered of Willborne?” He asked, pressing his lips together, he nodded his head.

“I'm so sorry.” You frowned at him. “It's no wonder you have nightmares about it. I know I would.”  
Henry took a deep breath, his broad showers rising as he did. “As much as it affects me, I'm sadly used to it. I've seen way worse, but this really bothers me.”

“Why?”

“Willborne and I went to the same boarding school, in Sector One.” He mumbled, staring into his coffee cup as it rested in his lap. “He was the only friend I had there. Everyone else either ignored me, like I was a wall, or bullied me.”

“Henry.” You said softly, reaching out to him, but he quickly stood up, setting his cup on the coffee table, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving your hand floating in the space he vacated.


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry catches you in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Then, needing a date to a Royal Dinner, Henry asks you to come with him.
> 
> The night doesn’t end in all the glitz and glamour it began with.

It was the third time in a week that Henry's nightmares and Kal's whining woke you in the middle of the night. You tiptoed down to his room, quietly opening his bedroom door, always calling out his name once or twice, in case you could wake him that way, but Henry never did wake.

So, you did what you always did.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you rubbed your palm up and down his thick arm, humming gently to him, then moved your hand to his broad and tense back, coaxing the strong muscles there to relax, before moving on to the one thing that always soothed Henry. Your fingers touched his curls, still slightly damp from the shower he took before bed. You didn't know what it was, but Henry loved having his hair played with, especially when he was asleep and agitated. You ran your fingers through them, how you learned he liked. Henry took a soft breath in and out, then relaxed for a moment, making you smile, assured he'd moved past the nightmare he was having.

But, as you moved towards the door, Henry whimpered again, and you turned back to see all your work of the last ten minutes, undone.

“Stubborn tonight.” You commented, looking down at Kal.

Shoulders slumping, you moved back to your spot on his bed and started caressing and rubbing his hair again, gently massaging the back of his neck. You thought you were about to get him to relax and calm down again, when he took a sudden sharp breath, tensed every muscle in his body and jerked upright. Pupils huge with his fright as his blue eyes scanned the room, like he would find the cause of his fear, but his frantic gaze shifted to you; your own pupils dilated from the start he gave you. He only looked at you for a moment, before his arm wrapped around your waist and hugged you against his shaking body, and buried his face into your neck.

Blinking, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and rubbed his back. “It's okay.” You whispered into his hair, gently rubbing the back of his head. “It'll be all right.”

Both of you stayed like that for a long time, Henry holding onto you and you tenderly carding your fingers through the back of his hair, just still and quiet in the darkness of his bedroom, his grasp on you never loosening.

“Why don't you lay back down?” You suggested, your fingertips trailing down the cooling sweat along his spine.

Henry slowly let you go and laid back against his pillows, and you softly smiled at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, before standing back up. But Henry's hand caught your wrist and you looked back at him, you could see the fear lingering in the back of his cerulean eyes. Licking and biting your lip for a moment, you moved around the foot of his bed, to the open side, and laid down with him. You scooted close to him, draping your arm over his bare stomach, letting him know you were there with him, and closed your eyes.

Henry watched you for a few minutes, before finally allowing himself to relax and go back to sleep. The skin of his stomach tingled under the contact of your arm, the warm bare skin of your arm was like a balm to the fear and terror of his nightmare. He woke the next morning, still in the same position with you, but you were closer to him, the caress of your breath on his shoulder, warm and gentle. He turned his head to look at you and realized how deeply asleep you were, a smile tugged at his lips, amused for someone that still didn't completely trust him, would be so out cold in the same bed.

Gently detaching you from him, Henry sat up and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the ghost of your own hand in it still. You woke up a few minutes later to the smell of coffee, just as Henry came back into the room, holding a cup in each hand. He looked up and smiled, extending one of the cups to you.

“Thanks.” You whispered, taking the steaming hot cup from him and sat up. “And, good morning.” You added, taking a sip and discovering it was tea, just how you liked it.

“Morning.” Henry smiled and took a gulp of his coffee.

“You all right?” You asked, frowning at him, he seemed unusually chipper.

“I am.” He nodded, his bright blues holding your gaze. “What were you doing in here, last night?” He asked, finally.

“You were having a nightmare.” You replied, clearing your throat and breaking his stare.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, sitting down on his bed with you. “I tend to have them, nightly.”

“I've noticed.” You chuckled, lightly. “Last night was the third time you woke me up, because of them.” You confessed, shyly.

“I'm so sorry.” Henry blushed, gulping.

“It's all right, it's not your fault.” You assured him. “It's not like you're having them on purpose.” You pointed out.

“So, what have you been doing?”

“I do try to wake you up from them, but you never do. Until last night, that is.” You coughed, biting your lip, and feeling awkward. “So,” Your face grew hot and you hid your face around the rim of your cup. “I just sit with you, until you're okay again.”

Henry grinned at you, his scruffy cheeks coloring. “That's very sweet of you.” He complimented you. “Thank you.” He added, quietly.

“Mr. Cavill.” Lucy suddenly chimed in.

“Yes, Lucy?” Henry replied, looking away from you.

“You have an incoming call from your mother.” Lucy answered, just as the sound of Henry's mobile went off on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Lucy.” He sighed, setting his coffee down and picked his mobile up. “Hey, Mum.” He smiled, as he answered the call.

“Henry, I hope you haven't forgotten the Royal Dinner tonight.” His mother replied, right away, knowing her son well enough.

“Oh fuck.” Henry snapped, raking a hand through his hair.

“Henry.” She sighed, shaking her head at her son's language.

“Sorry, Mum.” He gulped, biting his lip. “I did forget about it, work's been crazy.”

Marianne sighed again, shaking her head at how much her son worked for the Marshals. “Well, You're still coming, we haven't seen you in almost a year, and we live in the same Sector.” She tisked at him, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “We'll have to find you a plus one, you can't come alone.” She said, running through a mental list of all the young and single ladies she knew, that could come to the Dinner with Henry, and not make the family look bad.

“Perhaps, Riley.” She said, picturing the redhead on Henry's arm. “I think she's still single, or Michelle, I just saw her mother the other day, and she made a point to say she was single..”

Henry pressed his fingertips to his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as his mother continued to run through the list, shaking his own head. He didn't want to go with any of those status and money hungry, plastic gold diggers. Then, his eye caught you, sitting up against the headboard, sipping your tea and petting Kal's head, totally oblivious.

“Mum,” He said, cutting her off. “I don't need a date.”

“Nonsense, of course you do.”

“No.” Henry chuckled. “I mean, I don't need one, because I already have one.” He told her, smiling at you.

“What?” You and his mother squeaked at the same time.

“Who is she?” Marianne asked, shocked to hear Henry had a girl already, that could so easily go with him.

“Um, she's a girl I met at work.” He replied, his mouth going slightly dry.

“She's a Marshal?”

“Uh, no.” He carded a hand through his hair, nervously. “But, she did help me on a case and we got _close_.” He told her, looking at you wide eyed.

“As long as she's respectable.” Marianne told him, suspicious.

“She is.” Henry nodded, smiling softly at you. “We'll see you tonight.” He said, then hung up with her.

“What are you doing, Henry?” You asked, with wide eyed shock.

“I need a date to the Royal Dinner tonight.” He answered, biting his lip.

“And you want to take _me_?” You gulped, feeling a nauseous pit in your stomach.

“Why not?”

“You want me to go to one of the most prestigious dinners London has, with the top officials, that run the city? _Me_. A low down Slummer, that is technically your slave.”

“Yes.” Henry nodded, stubbornly, he didn't care about any of that.

“You seriously think they're going to let me go with you?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, then push me in a corner with the rest of the slaves.”

“Like hell they will.” Henry snapped, angered at the idea.

“No, Henry. I can't.” You shook your head. “That's too much. I don't know the first thing about high society or Royal etiquette. I'll fuck things up and make both of us look stupid.” You argued, getting out of his bed and going into the living room.

“You won't, I swear.” Henry said, following after you. “I'll help you. We'll be in this together. I'm not any better at socializing with them than you are.”

“But, you still know what you need to do and how to look or act. I don't.”

Henry moved closer to you, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You'll be fine, I'll be right there with you, the whole time.” He said softly, lowering his head to stare directly into your eyes. “We'll be in it together.”

– –

You felt so strange in the long, royal blue, Chiffon halter-strap dress, with matching suede, lace-up heels, that you were slightly wobbly on.

“You look so beautiful.” Henry smiled, seeing you all dressed up.

Henry himself was in a similar dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark grey tie, so the pair of you matched. You smiled and glanced away from him, shyly, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. Henry chuckled and pulled something from his pocket, a medium sized, velvet box.

“It's customary to be decked out in blues, for families of the Royal Council.” He explained, opening the box. “So, I figured these would go perfectly with your outfit.” He said, turning the open box towards you.

“Oh.” You gasped, softly, eyes huge.

There was a pair of sparkling diamond and sapphire teardrop earrings in the box, accompanied with a matching teardrop necklace. You couldn't believe how beautiful they were, and just how expensive they must have been, on top of your dress and shoes that Henry bought for you to wear to the dinner. You had tried to convince him to not spend so much money on you, but Henry wouldn't hear anything about it, he wanted you to feel as beautiful as you looked, to feel special, so he dropped tons of credits on you.

“They're gorgeous.” You whispered, touching them gently.

“Glad you think so.” Henry smiled, setting the box down and carefully removing the necklace, then stepped behind you, gently putting it around your neck and clasping it.

You slipped off your regular earrings and delicately put on the new ones, feeling the cool weight of the real stones. Henry felt his heart skip a beat seeing you in all your decked out glory, a small lump even formed in his throat, that made him clear his throat and look away to gather himself again.

“So, where is this Dinner?” You asked, as the car left the parking garage.

“Sector One.” Henry replied, fidgeting with his tie. “There's a venue that all the high end Royals have for their functions, like the dinner.” He explained, giving up on it. “The dinner will only be two hours.” He added, glancing over at you.

“I really hope I don't embarrass you.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“Oh, my family is going to embarrass me _far_ before you do.” Henry chuckled, shaking his head at the thought and memory of the last few events he had to attend. “Don't worry about it. You'll do great.” He added in a softer tone, seeing the still unsure and worried look on your face.

Reaching over, he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, a soft and encouraging smile on his face. You squeezed his hand back and returned his smile, feeling a bit more fortified against your anxiety about going to the dinner with him.

– –

The venue for the dinner was so elegant and lavish, it took your breath away and had your eyes the size of plates. The colors were so rich and vibrant, deep blues and glittering golds with smooth charcoal grays and rich blacks. The twinkling of expensive crystal chandeliers hung over all of the tables, at least a hundred it looked like to you.

It was a buzz with people, all of them dressed, more or less, in the same colors as the venue. Henry had explained to you the importance of the colors, because it was only higher Sectors, four and up, that could afford and had occasion to wear them, so it showed status and wealth. It had only hit you at seeing the venue and the attendees that you realized just how high fashioned you and Henry were dressed, as the son of one of the most popular and powerful Supreme Royals, Marianne Dalgliesh-Cavill.

“Henry!” A voice came from the crowd of people, before the owner of the voice finally appeared.

“Heather.” Henry smiled at his sister-in-law as she approached.

“It's so good to see you, it's been ages.” Heather grinned, throwing an arm around Henry's neck in a warm hug.

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled, hugging her back. “Work's been keeping me busy, as usual.” He told her, as they pulled apart.

“You work far too much.” She softly chided him with a gentle slap on the arm, then her eyes shifted over to you.

“Heather, this is my date.” Henry smiled brightly at you, giving his sister-in-law your name.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Heather smiled, offering her hand to you.

“Likewise.” You replied, carefully taking her hand for a moment.

“You look amazing in your dress.” She complimented you, giving you a look over.

“Thank you.” You gulped. “As do you.” You returned the kind comment; loving her knee length, navy blue, silk dress.

“The rest of the family is at our usual table.” Heather said, looking back to Henry for a moment, before skillfully gliding through the crowd towards the table.

“Told you.” Henry whispered, leaning close to your ear and chuckling.

Henry guided you towards the large table, you noticed Heather sitting beside a young man that was the near spitting image of Henry himself. You noticed his mother next, it was hard not to notice her, even seated Marianne carried herself with deep authority, grace and importance. She was beautiful, her shoulder length blond hair carefully styled and framing her gorgeous face. She was in a flawless navy blue, off-the-shoulder dress and matching jewelry. Henry rested his hand on the small of your back as you both stopped in front of the table, both of you taking a deep breath before the entire table turned to notice you.

“Henry.” Marianne said softly, smiling as she stood, the rest of the table standing with her, out of respect.

“Mum.” Henry smiled back at her.

“Who is this young lady?” She asked, looking at you.

Henry offered her your name, glancing at you, a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am.” You said around a tight throat, hoping you didn't look as terrified as you felt.

“You as well.” Marianne replied, her eyes methodically moving over you. “Well, shall we sit?” She finally said, taking her seat again.

“Yes, let's.” Henry's father, Colin, agreed, sitting down beside her.

As everyone sat back down, Henry politely pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down, before taking his own seat beside you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh, feeling the slight shake to it as he did. Henry gave you another sweet and encouraging smile, then went around the table, introducing you to the rest of his family, his little brother, the one that looked so much like him, Charlie, who was Heather's husband. His three older brothers, Piers, Nik and Simon. All of them were either part of the Cleric Council or the Royal Council. He introduced his sister-in-laws, who were either homemakers or in similar Councils as their husbands. They were all extremely polite and nice to you, easing a lot of your anxiety and worry about attending such a high end function with Henry.

Everyone chatted about family life and work related things, sweetly keeping you in the conversation so you didn't get left out, until dinner was finally served about forty minutes later. Everything was so delicious and flavorful, some of it you didn't even know the name of, let alone seen and had before. But, it was all so good.

“So, what is it that you do?” Piers's wife asked, looking at you from across the table.

You felt your throat go dry and Henry's hand grasp your thigh under the table, neither of you had fielded this question on the way to the event.

“She's not currently working.” Henry said, as you picked up your champagne glass.

“Then, how was it that she helped you in your last case?” Colin asked, before taking a bite of his food.

“I was conducting interviews for the case and she was one of the people I interviewed.” Henry said, his face somehow gave away none of the tension you could feel in his hand. “She had the information I needed.”

“You must have returned to interview her, if the pair of you hit it off so well, that you'd ask her to attend tonight with you.” Simon said, eyeing his little brother.

A smile started to break the control Henry had over his expression, before he managed to pull it back in. “Well, she is the witness for the case, so we got _close_.” His hand relaxed slightly.

“What was the case about?” Marianne asked, lifting a brow at her son.

“I'm still investigating it.” Henry replied, swallowing a gulp of wine. “So, you know I can't completely speak on the matter.”

Marianne stared at Henry for a moment, before her brow slowly lowered and she dropped the subject. “What Sector are you from?” She asked you.

“She's-”

“I asked her, Henry.” She gently scolded him.

The tension returned into Henry's hand, tenfold. You wouldn't be surprised to see bruises in its wake later.

“Lower than Sector Three.” You replied, trying your best to keep your face under control, gripping Henry's wrist, like it would help. “My family is of no prominence, but they make do with what they have.”

Marianne regarded you for a tense moment, before nodding her head. “It was nice of my son to invite you.”

“It was.” You agreed, nodding your head at her. “I'm quite honored for the distinction he's given me.”

The grip Henry had on your thigh changed slightly, it wasn't full of worried tension, but a grip of pride in your words and actions, standing up on your own against his mother's interrogation of you. After a short silence, the table returned to its normal conversation, seemingly appeased with the information gathered on you, however exaggerated it was. When you leaned in close to Henry and informed him you _really_ had to use the restroom, he excused both of you and showed you to where they were situated.

“I'm quite impressed by how you stood up to my mum.” He commented as you both took your time returning to the table. “Not many people outside our family do.”

“With a good mind, I'm sure.” You chuckled, softly. “I hope, I didn't cross a line.”

“Oh, trust me.” Henry laughed. “If you had, she would let you have it.” He assured you, amused. “But, no. I think she likes you.”

“Really?” You replied, shocked to hear it.

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking across the room at his mother. “If she didn't, she wouldn't have let up on grilling you and just the way she is.”

“Well, that's nice to know.” You chuckled, nervously.

“You know what.” Henry said suddenly, grabbing your elbow to pull you to a stop. “Come dance with me.” He said, motioning to the modestly filled dance floor, several couples dancing to the soft song playing.

“No.” You shook your head, shyly. “I don't know how to dance.”

“That's fine.” He chuckled, slowly reeling you over to the floor. “I'll show you.”

“Henry.” You giggled, grinning and face warm.

Henry grinned back at you, finally getting you on the dance floor, and gently pulled you against him, positioning both of your and his arms properly, his arm around your waist and hand resting delicately on your lower back as you both started to gently sway to the song.

“See.” He smiled against your ear. “It's not so hard.” He teased you.

You and Henry enjoyed the rest of the night, but by the time the function was over, your feet and toes were screaming inside your heels. So, Henry had you wait at the entrance of the venue, slipping his suit jacket off and putting it over your shoulders, while he went down to the parking garage for the car, so you didn't hurt your feet anymore than they were already.

“Issy?” A soft voice whispered behind you.

Blinking, you carefully turned on your sore feet and saw the owner of the voice, a young boy in dirty, mismatched and over sized clothing, his dirty blonde hair cropped, stood meekly behind you, blinking back at you.

“Dax?” You whispered back, shocked to see him there.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” He asked, then looked you over. “Why are you wearing that?”

“I'm attending the event with someone.” You replied, becoming incredibly self-aware again. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here with my Master.” Dax answered, looking around as if he expected them to suddenly appear. “My father sold me off to him two weeks ago.”

“I'm so sorry.” You frowned at him, empathetic. “Have you heard,” You glanced around to make sure Henry wasn't near. “Have you heard anything about Mikey?”

Dax tiptoed closer to you. “I heard he returned home not long ago. When he found out you had gone to look for him, he flipped out. But, no one knew where you went, they all looked for a long time. Still are, I'm sure.” He told you in a low voice. “Last I heard, he was going to--”

“Boy!” A voice roared and Dax flinched, like he had been struck. “What are you doing, bothering this young lady.” A portly man demanded of Dax, sallying up to you both and striking Dax on the back of the head. “My apologies, Miss.” He said, turning his red and blotchy face to you, and nodding his head politely.

“I am still trying to train this filthy miscreant.”

You floundered for a moment, unsure how to react. The man clearly thought you were one of the Uppers and treated you as such; but you were dumbfounded. “I-”

“Is there a problem here?” Henry's voice said behind you and you felt your stomach give out with relief.

“No.” You squeaked, turning towards him. “It was just a misunderstanding.” You told him, looking back to the portly man.

“Oh, High Marshal Cavill.” The portly man said, gulping at Henry, his fat neck jiggling with the motion.

“Beta Cleric Hunt.” Henry nodded his head to the man and resting his hand on your back, protectively.

“My apologies, if this _stupid_ boy has bothered your lady.” Hunt said, all but tripping over himself to make Henry happy.

“Well, if she said it was a misunderstanding, then it was one.” Henry replied, looking at the boy, with a faint look of distaste. “Good night, Mr. Hunt.” He said, turning both of you away from them and back towards the car, parked at the curb.

You could hear Hunt berating Dax and hitting him several more times as you got into the car with Henry and drove away, your eyes burning as you did.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked after a few minutes. “He didn't hurt you, did he?” He looked you over, to make sure.

“No.” You replied, your voice weak.

“What's wrong?” He asked, seeing the tears threatening in your eyes, and became increasingly concerned for you. “What did he do? Did he say something?”

“No.” You shook your head, warm tears flowing free. “He--” Your throat closed around the word.

“He what?” Henry gently pressed, turning towards you and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, and gently dabbed at your wet cheeks. “Tell me?” He begged you, a knot twisting up his stomach seeing you so upset.

“Please.”

“He's..” You licked your lips and sniffled. “He's my...cousin.”

Henry's broad shoulders slowly melted as your words hit him. “I'm so sorry.” He whispered, crushed. “I had no idea, please forgive me.” He pleaded, feeling shameful with how he reacted to Dax and felt guilty for not ensuring that Hunt didn't do the boy any more harm for what was clearly and honestly a misunderstanding.

“He just wanted to know what I was doing there, since none of them knew what happened to me.” You hiccuped, biting into your lip as you tried to get yourself under control again.

“How does he know you were gone?” Henry frowned, shaking his head and thumbing away a tear about to drip from your jaw.

“He's only been his slave for two weeks.” You told him, sniffling.

Henry pressed his lips together and nodded, you had been gone for months, even before he had gotten to you in the raid. He dearly wished he could allow you to go home, even if it was just to let your family know you were safe and sound, but it was too dangerous, for both you and them, to risk. He had considered, on many occasions, on sending them an anonymous note on your welfare, but knew it would probably be traced back to him, no matter how careful he was. The whole situation was one mixed bag of risk, danger and complication, he tried his best to protect you, but knew in doing that, he was cutting you off from the very things you craved and needed the most in such a scary time, your family.

“Here.” He said softly, as the two of you approached the lift up to his flat.

Henry carefully picked you up in his arms, relieving you of the sore and painful throb of your feet and ankles, that was steadily making it impossible for you to stand, let alone walk. He held you in his arms on the lift ride up to his floor, down the hall and into the flat, then into your room. Carefully setting you down on your bed, Henry gently picked up one of your feet, resting it on his thigh as he delicately unwrapped the soft fabric from around your ankle and slipped the heel off; doing the same with the other one.

“Thank you.” You whispered, flexing your swollen toes.

“You're welcome.” He replied quietly, then left your room.

Sighing, you stood with a soft groan and slipped out of the dress, draping it over the foot of your bed before going into your closet and removing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear. You went out into the kitchen, finding Henry there as the coffee maker filled his cup and made yourself some tea, before sitting down on the couch.

“Thank you for going with me.” Henry said, sitting beside you, as you flipped through the channels.

“Of course.” You nodded, not looking at him.

He sighed softly, setting his cup on the table and carefully turned you towards him. You thought he wanted to talk about what happened after the event, and just as you opened your mouth to tell him you really didn't want to, he gently put your swollen feet into his lap, and started to methodically massaged them. Your foot almost vanished in his big hands, his fingers working the top of your foot, while his thumbs moved in firm circles up and down the bottom of your foot, paying extra attention to your arch and toes. You moaned at the luxurious feel of his strong fingers combined with the heat of his hands engulfing your feet, that your eyes fluttered shut, tv forgotten.

– –

Home had never looked so beautiful to you, as you approached the worn building that housed your family's flat. It had been a year since you had gone looking for your brother and gotten kidnapped by Traffickers, then sold to Henry as a Slave, though Henry never treated you like one, he had treated you with the utmost care and consideration.

But now, it was time for you to finally return home.

You entered the flat, feeling giddy and excited to see your parents and brothers again. “Mum? Papa!” You called out, closing the door behind you. “Christophe? Michail?”

“Issy!?” Mikey's voice yelled out from down the hall.

Mickey came running into the living room, his eyes big and mouth hanging open. “Oh god, you're home!” He said, shocked and rushing you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up off your feet. “Thank god, you're all right!” He cried into your shoulder.

“And home.” You cried back, clinging onto him and hugging him tight.

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, setting you down and holding you at arm's length.

“It's complicated and I don't want to talk about it.” You told him, cupping his face in your hands.

“We were so afraid that you were dead or had been kidnapped.” He told you, looking you over.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” You told him, shaking your head and so glad to see him again. “Where did _you_ go that day?”

“I was staying with a friend.” Mikey told you, pulling you down onto the couch with him. “I'm leaving soon.”

“What?” You snapped, surprised. “Why? Where?”

“My boss's given me a better position, so I'm going to Bristol to be trained, before I can come back here.”

“Trained? Trained in what?” You frowned at him.

“He's making me an Adjutant Runner.” Mikey grinned, with such pride.

You felt your heart fall into your stomach at the news. An Adjutant Runner was easily one of the most dangerous positions as a Runner for a Crime Boss. They were higher in the hierarchy of the business, second to the Kingpin, that made and supplied the drugs, and third to the very top of the chain, the Crime Boss, that ran it all and reaped the biggest benefit, and generally worked untouched by the dirty and risky parts of the business. Crime Bosses were rarely arrested and successfully tied to the rest of the chain or the crimes, everyone below him took the wrap and consequences of the world they inhabited, even if it was openly known that he was the main man.

Countless Adjutant Runners either came up dead or ended up banished, and once someone was caught and outed, the Crime Bosses of Bristol never took them back into their employment, feeling they would be a weak point in their operations and their profit. So, the Adjutant Runners lucky enough to live and suffered banishment had very little resources to survive, no longer welcomed in London and no longer trusted in Bristol. That in itself was a death sentence.

“Michail, no.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him, crushed. “You can't do this, it's far too dangerous.”

Mikey huffed and rolling his eyes at you. “You sound like mum and dad.” He sighed, getting up from the couch, to pace. “I know the risks of being a Runner, especially for Jaxon Quinn. But, the money I can make being an Adjutant Runner for him and bring back home for you, our parents and Chris, can help us so much.”

“And when people start questioning where the money is coming from?” You argued, watching him pace. “Mum and Dad don't make enough money for us all to get by on to start with, that's with you and I working, and when suddenly that burden is lifted, but the jobs are still the same. What then?”

“We'll just have to stagger it.” He argued back.

You pressed your hands to your face, at your wit's end with him. “You sound like a lunatic!” You barked, throwing your arms out.

“None of you fucking understand how this could work out in our favor!” He roared back, facing you. “The things this could do for us!”

“And the things it can do _to_ us, Mikey!” You screamed, jumping to your feet. “Mum and dad could lose their jobs, the flat and or get banished. Christophe will be homeless and parent-less! He'll end up like that pack of street kids that rob people or work to lure them into the dens of traffickers! If they don't banish him with our parents.” You panted, out of breath and so angry with him.

“You don't seem so worried about yourself!” He hissed, coldly.

That cut you. But, he was right. Henry had told you as he dropped off at the gate to your home Sector, that if anything happened and you needed a safe place, to come find him and he'd take care of you again. But, that was beside the point, you weren't going to let your idiot twin destroy your parents and little brother's lives, simply because he was unhappy with the amount of money he made as a dishwasher.

“I have a job, and I can apply for a place of my own.” You growled at him, gritting your teeth.

“And be ninety percent in debt for the rest of your life, or barely making ends meet.” Mikey taunted you, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he surveyed you.

“It's better than being dead or banished the rest of my life.” You cut him back.

“So, you won't come with me?” He asked, suddenly calm, despite the storm of his anger still below his surface.

“Fuck no!” You barked, shaking your head and looking at him, like he was crazy.

Which he was.

“Fine then.” He huffed, stomping down to his room and grabbing the bag he packed. “I'll do it for us, _alone_.”

“Mikey.” You sighed, trying to reel him back in.

He stopped, holding open the flat door and stared at you, before shaking his head at you and going out, the door closing with a soft click after him. You dropped heavily onto the couch and pressed your hands to your face, your shoulders hunched against as you shook.

“Honey?”

You looked up as the door opened again and the exhausted look of your mother came into view of your teary eyes. She looked more or less the same as she did the last time you saw her, but she had several more wrinkles on her beautiful face and her eyes looked a little more sunken.

“Mama.” You whimpered at her, rushing to her and wrapping your shaking arms around her, sobbing into her neck.

“Oh baby.” She sobbed back, clutching at you.

You explained as much as you dared to your mother about where you had been for the last year, ensuring to comfort her about your safety and well-being. But, a mother being a mother, Tasha knew there was something you were hiding and knew some of that secret was quite dark. But, she didn't press you on it, not wanting to darken the reunion with whatever it was.

– –

A month after your return home, there was a knock at the door of your family home. But, when your father opened the door, no one was there, just a note on the worn door rug. Frowning at it, Tristan bent with a groan and picked the note up, before turning back inside.

“Who was it, love?” Tasha called out from the kitchen.

“A note.” He called back, tapping the screen.

“A note.” She echoed back and came into the living room, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “From who?”

“I don't know.” Tristan answered and activated the note.

You and Chris came into the living room as the electronic pad beeped and an unfamiliar and distorted voice started to speak. “I am sorry to inform you that your son, Mikey Keagan, has been found dead in Sector Fifteen of Bristol...”

You sat up with a strangled gasp of tears stuck in your throat and frantically looked about the room, not recognizing it, until something cold touched your arm and you looked into the black and furry face of Kal as he laid in bed with you.

“Henry.” You panted, taking deep breaths in and out, realizing it was all a nightmare and you were still in Sector Two with Henry.

Rubbing at your face, you dropped back against your pillow and stared up at the dark gray ceiling. You couldn't shake the fear coursing through your body from the nightmare. It had felt so real that being awake now felt like the dream.

“He's in trouble, Kal.” You whispered to the Akita, then got out of bed.

Tiptoeing down the hall, you made sure Henry was still asleep, and found him crashed out on his stomach and snoring lightly, then rushed into the kitchen. You didn't dare use Lucy's voice activation in case it woke Henry, so you used the screen in the kitchen to get what you wanted from her. Using Henry's life pin, you were able to actually get into Marshal records and found there was, thankfully, no notice on Mikey's death. Relieved in that event, you set about your next plan of action, ordering a backpack to put a change of clothes and any other supplies you might need and a mobile, so you could navigate out of London and make your trek to Bristol, hopefully in time to find and stop something from happening to him.

You flinched and froze at the soft ding of the delivery pod announcing the arrival of your things, expecting Henry to come out and ask you what you were doing ordering something at one in morning. But, he stayed asleep. You took the mobile and backpack out of the pod and went back into your room, shoving some clothes into it, got dressed yourself, then filled a water bottle and took a couple of snacks out of the cabinets, packing them as well.

“Ssshhh, Kal.” You shushed the Bear as you slowly opened the door and he whined. “I have to do this.” You told him, slipping out into the hall and quietly closed the door behind you.

Finding your way out of Henry's building by way of the stairs and out onto the street, you plugged in the headphones that came with your new mobile and turned it on, pressed your finger to the print scanner, watching the device light up and sign you into your mobile account.

“Eric?” You whispered, holding your breath as you waited for his long missed voice.

“Ms. Keagan, welcome back.” Eric's voice replied.

You laughed, and nearly cried, at the sound of his voice. “Thanks, Eric.” You smiled. “I need you to bring up a map of back ways that will take me from Sector Two back to Sector Twenty-Eight.”

“Of course, Ms.” Eric answered.

A moment later, you had the extensive layout on how to get back home from where you were and set out for the first checkpoint, not wanting to waste any more time and knew that you had to get to your Sector as quickly as you could and out of the city, or almost out, by the time Henry woke up in a few short hours.

– –

When Henry did finally wake up, just after nine, he found Kal sitting by his side of the bed and staring at him. “Hey, bud.” He said in a sleepy deep voice, patting the Bear on the head.

He got out of bed with a stretch and a yawn, then padded down the hall, scratching his tone belly as his stomach growled for breakfast. But, he made for a pit stop at the bathroom, only to pause and turn back. Your bedroom door was wide open and your bed was empty. Frowning, he called out your name as he stepped into the living room and found that empty as well. So was the bathroom and the kitchen, but the control screen on the kitchen wall caught Henry's attention, still showing the orders you made and the file you pulled up under his Marshal account on your brother.

“Fuck.” He snapped with a huff, raking a shaky hand through his disheveled curls.

Henry paced the kitchen, saying he was upset with you was an understatement, but he was also a bit impressed. Putting all that aside, Henry knew there was something up with your brother, he knew it the moment he met you. If you had just wanted to go home after what happened with your cousin at the Royal Dinner the night before, you would have just gotten the backpack and mobile and left, you knew how to get home. But no, you had specifically used his life pin to get into documents only he or any other Marshal could access to look your twin up.

For what? He wondered. What was it that you suddenly needed to know about him, that would then cause you to pack a bag and run, in the middle of the night, after almost two months with him. It must have been something illegal, if you didn't wake him to ask him for help, or at least try and convince him to take you back home, because you feared something was wrong.

“But, she has to be afraid of something.” He said out loud. “But, what?” He sighed, staring at the screen. “What are you afraid of? And, what is your twin up too?” He asked, a crease deepening between his brow.

He looked at Kal. “I'm going to have to find her.” He told the Bear. “She's not safe out there with Traffickers and Bosses looking for her.” He said, resolved to go after you.

Getting showered, dressed and making a liquid breakfast out of a cup of coffee, Henry set out to go to the first place he knew, for a fact, you would be going too. _Home_. It would be the prime location for you to go to try and find your brother and any leads of where he might have gone, if he wasn't there. It only took Henry an hour to get to your home Sector and about twenty minutes to find your building, then mount the stairs to your family's flat.

“Yes?” A woman frowned, answering his knock.

If it wasn't for the wisps of gray hair and soft wrinkles, Henry would have sworn it was you answering the door. It took him a moment to gather his composure again. “Hi, I'm High Marshal Cavill.” He cleared his throat and showed her the badge clipped to his belt as identification. “I'm looking for one of your children.”

“Mikey isn't here.” She told him.

“I'm not, exactly, looking for your son, ma'am.” Henry informed her with a frown. “I'm looking for your daughter.”

The woman's face changed, considerably. “She's not here either.” She said softly. “We haven't seen her in almost a year.”

Henry bit the inside corner of his lip, warring with the knowledge that this mother hadn't seen her beloved daughter in almost a year, and he had seen her only the night before.

“Do you know anything about her disappearance?” She asked, hopeful.

His mouth worked for a moment. “I've been put on the case, into it. Do you know where I could find her brother, Mikey?” He asked, wanting to know what the secret surrounding the boy was all about. “I understand they're twins.”

“Yes, yes they are.” She nodded, licking her lips nervously. “I haven't seen my son Michail in just over a month.”

“Do you know why that is?”

“My husband and I believe he became disheartened with his sister's absence and got himself into Sub-Blue down in the lower Sectors.” She explained to him, looking deeply troubled and worried.

Henry nodded his head, pressing his lips together, she didn't know anything, that much was obvious to him. Licking his lips and letting out a sigh, Henry gave her his number and asked her to call him, should she see either of her children again, then returned to his car. He drummed his fingers against his thighs as he stared out the windshield, the pattering of filthy rain fell against the angled glass and matte-black paint of the car's body.

“Where are you?” He mumbled, watching and searching each face that went by, hoping to see yours.

He wasn't sure what he would do, once he did find you again. Mostly, he just wanted to know what was going on with you, what it was about your brother that had you so worried and afraid. Henry squinted his eyes through the wet on his windshield, he watched a little boy dash across the street and into the building, knowing you had a little brother as well, but shook his head; the boy was too young to be your brother, Christophe. Grunting, Henry started the car, deciding to go to your place of work, maybe some of the people you worked with had answers.

“Where's your Supervisor?” Henry asked, flashing his badge at the first worker he saw upon entering the Sector Twenty-Eight Supermarket.

The bored and exhausted looking man at the cashier pointed to a door at the very back of the store and Henry made his way to the back, stepping into the dim and cool stock room that fed the rest of the market.

“You can't-”

“High Marshal.” Henry snapped, cutting the clearly under worked Supervisor off.

“Oh.” the Supervisor squeaked, gulping at Henry. “How-how can I help?” He mumbled, chewing on his lip, nervously.

“I want information on one of your workers.” Henry told him, giving the Supervisor your name.

“Her? She hasn't come into work for months.” He explained to Henry, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm surprised the Council of Daily Operations hasn't sent her a failure notice.”

“They know where she's been.” Henry remarked, he had listed her address on her life pin application as his place.

“If they know where she is, then why are _you_ here?”

Growling deep in his chest, Henry grabbed the front of the Supervisor's uniform and slammed him into a set of stocking shelves. “Because, she's part of an important investigation and in deep fucking trouble. Do you know where she and her brother would hang out or any activity they might be in?”

“Her, no. That girl is a straight shooter. She would be the last person I'd expect to get into any kind of trouble.” The Supervisor remarked, surprised. “But, Mike.” He snorted, shaking his head. “If you ever saw that boy, you'd know he's nothing, but trouble. He used to steal off the very shelves his twin sister worked so hard to stock.”

“Hm.” Henry growled, pressing his lips together, and let the Supervisor go.

Returning to his car, Henry brought up the AI screen in front of his windshield. “Lucy, look up Mikey Keagan.” He ordered, scowling at the slightly transparent screen.

“Michail Charles Keagan. Age, twenty-three. Birthday, 4th December, 2844. Place and Time of Birth, Unknown. Height, 183cm. Weight, 86 kilograms. Place of Occupation, Daily O's Soup Kitchen, Dishwasher.”

Lucy's voice listed out as the report appeared on the screen. Henry scrubbed his palms over his face and swiped through all the documents the Councils had on Michail.

“There's basically nothing on this kid.” Henry sighed, shaking his head at the meager information. “Nothing, but some stupid offenses.” He slumped in his seat, at his wit's end already, then sighed, he couldn't give up yet. “Let's go to his place of work, perhaps _his_ employers and equals have something to say.” He said, ordering Lucy to take the car that way.

– –

Your feet were screaming by the time you reached the street your family lived on. You stopped and adjusted your shoes to loosen the strap to accommodate your swollen feet, with a sigh of relief. You were about to step out into the street, when you saw Henry striding along the sidewalk across from you.

“Shit.” You gasped, quickly dashing into a nearby alleyway, your heart pounding as you spied him going into your family's building.

You hadn't expected him to show up so soon, but there he was. No doubt going to your family's flat in search of you. You were glad that you hadn't gone up yet, even if you were gone again by the time Henry showed up. Henry was a good High Marshal, you had seen that in the several cases you'd witnessed him working at in the long hours at his flat, while you stayed with him. He would have been able to get the truth out of your family about seeing you and whatever other information they could give him, then been able to stop you in going to Bristol, to find your brother and stop him.

A few minutes later, you watched Henry leave.

“Hey.” You called out to a street boy.

“Yeah, what?” The boy snapped back, looking at you dubiously.

“You know my brother, Christophe, don't you?”

“I might.” He replied, folding his thin arms.

“I need you to go up to our flat and see if he, or any of my family, is there.”

“What do I get out of it?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

You narrowed your eyes back at him. “You know Jinyu's?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll take you down there, and get you something to eat.” You told the boy, seeing how thin he was, it had no doubt been some time since he had a decent hot meal.

He weighed the option, then took off across the street and into your building, coming back a moment later. “Christophe isn't home, only your mum is.” He told you.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, playfully ruffling his dirty hair. “Now, let's go. I have things to do.” You told him, turning down the alleyway, and taking the back way to Jinyu's, in case Henry spotted you on the streets.


	4. Chapter IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry tracks down people that could help him find you, not realizing just how close to you he is. You make it outside the wall of London, entering the wild expanse between it and Bristol.

“What do you know about Michail Keagan, Mr. Parker?” Henry said, sitting across from your twin brother's Supervisor at his assigned place of work.

“He's a fucking loser.” The Supervisor laughed, shaking his head at the table between them. “He _might_ spend a whole hour here for his shifts, other than that he's missing in action. I've reported him to the Council of Daily Operations numerous times, but they don't care because he still clocks in, despite it only being for that one hour.”

“So, he knows how to cheat the system.” Henry nodded, chewing on his lip, frustrated.

“Him and that equal loser friend of his, who's supposed to be working for us, but got himself transferred to his family's hole-in-the-wall restaurant.” Parker huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What friend?” Henry frowned, leaning against the table on his elbows.

“Theodore 'Teddy' Wang.” Parker replied. “He's a dishwasher for Wang's Take-Away.”

“Thanks.” Henry said, standing up and extending his hand to Parker, then made his way to the Chinese restaurant.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Jinyu asked from behind the register, smiling as Henry stopped in front of her.

“I'm looking for your son, Teddy Wang.” Henry replied, glancing behind her.

The smile on Jinyu's face melted away, she could tell by the way Henry looked and held himself that he was part of the Marshals Council. “He's not here today.”

Henry sighed, pressing his palms to the nicked counter top and leaned all his weight on his arms, bringing his piercing blue gaze to hers. “Mrs. Wang,” He said softly. “I'm not here to arrest your son, even if he's doing something that warrants it. All I want from him is answers to my questions. It's that simple, unless you and your son want to make it complicated.” He explained to her.

Jinyu stared at Henry for a long time, before rolling her eyes and pointing to the beaded curtain behind her. She knew if she didn't comply, Henry could make a load of trouble for her back at the Council, and she, her family and their business didn't need that. Henry nodded his head to her and stepped around the counter, parting the rattling beads as he stepped into the back of the restaurant and found Teddy there, doing what he was always doing; washing dishes.

“Teddy Wang?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, who wants--” Teddy started, setting the plate in his hand down and turned towards Henry, drying his hands on his filthy apron. “Oh shit!” He yelped, seeing the imposing Henry, and spun around, tripping over his feet, before catching himself on the edge of the sink and bolting out the back door of the restaurant.

Sighing through his nose and dropping his arms, Henry went after Teddy, quickly catching up to the kid in the trash filled alley, trying to scale a chain-link fence. He easily reached up, grabbing the back of Teddy's shirt and yanked him off the fence, before slamming his back against the grimy wall of his parents' restaurant.

“Look, I ain't got nothin'!” He barked at Henry, squirming.

“Is that so?” Henry smirked, deciding to have a little fun on Teddy's expense. “That's not what I heard.” He shoved a hand into the front pocket of Teddy's faded jeans. “Oh, what's this?” He grinned, pulling out a small, dime-sized bag from the pocket, a sky-blue powder inside of it.

“That's just Naproxen tablets, they must have gotten crushed.” Teddy gulped, looking like a caught sheep.

“Right.” Henry laughed, opening the bag and dumping it out onto the wet ground, then rubbing it out with the sole of his boot.

“Oh, come on, man!” Teddy whined, slumping back against the wall. “That's expensive.”

“Really? I thought Naproxen was only five creds?” Henry replied, tilting his head at the boy.

“One cred is too expensive down here, you'd know that, if you lived in this hell hole too.” Teddy sneered at him. “ _Marshal_.”

Henry smirked at Teddy. “I wanna talk about Mikey Keagan.” He said, cutting to the chase.

“Oh fuck that!” He snapped, shaking his head. “I am getting tired of being roped into their fucking issues.”

“ _Their_?”

“Yeah, _their_!” Teddy spat. “Mikey tries to rope me into his Running operations and his sister, the last time I saw her, she held me up at knife point, until I told her where her brother went.”

“When was this? That she _held_ you up?” Henry asked, not buying his story about you holding him at knife point.

If only he knew.

“Eight or nine months ago.” Teddy replied. “Mike got into a fight with his parents about becoming a Runner for Jaxon Quinn, over in Sector Three of Bristol, and went down to the Thirty Sectors to stay with a friend. Issy comes by, a week later, and holds me up, until I tell her what friend he's staying with. Gave her shortcuts around the gates and everything.”

“What's the friend's name?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes as he processed the story.

“Fynn Penmark.”

Henry looked Teddy over. “I'll let you off for having the Sub-Blue. But, if I ever find out you're in possession of it again, I'll make sure you're banished so far outside the walls of London, you'll be on a different fucking continent.” He threatened, pressing Teddy to the wall with a palm to the chest.

“Got it?” He hissed.

“Got it.” Teddy gulped, licking his lips and nodding his head, like a bobble-head.

“Good.” Henry pushed off of him and headed through the back door of the restaurant again.

“Hey, mister!” A boy on the street corner called out to Henry as he was unlocking his car.

“What!” Henry barked back at him.

“You lookin' for a girl?” He asked, and described you to him.

“That's her.” Henry nodded at him, leaning back against his car door. “What do you know about her?”

“What's in it for me?” The boy asked.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “What's your name, kid?”

“Oscar.”

“Well, Oscar.” Henry sighed, rubbing his forehead and carding his fingers through his hair. “What do you want for the information?”

Oscar looked around him and pointed back to Wang's Take-Away. “Lunch. She already got me breakfast to see if any of her family was home.” He confessed.

Henry half smirked at the little boy and finally recognized him, so you had been in the area within the last three hours. “Fair enough.” He agreed to Oscar's terms. “Information first, then lunch.”

“She's looking for her brother, says he's in some kind of trouble, didn't say what.” Oscar told him, fidgeting. “Then, she told the Chinese lady to give me some food, got some for herself, then left.” He pointed to the East, toward Sector Twenty-Nine's gate. “That way.”

“All right, kid.” Henry sighed, satisfied with the information and pushed off the car, going back into the restaurant and let Oscar get some food and a drink, before heading towards Sector Twenty-Nine's gate.

He figured you were going to go find this Fynn Penmark's flat, to see if your brother was there, or what Fynn knew about Mikey's whereabouts. Henry gave you credit, you would make a damn good Marshal with the level of forward-thinking and intuition you had going on, in the case of finding your brother. He was also relieved to know that his own intuition about your brother being in some kind of serious trouble was all so right.

Now, to find you and learn the rest of the facts on the matter.

– –

It took some doing, but you finally found out where Fynn Penmark lived. But, as you approached the opening in the wall separating Sector Thirty and Thirty-One, your heart started to race and pound, hands shaking and palms sweating, it became hard to breathe. You stopped and pressed your hands to your face, trying to push back the terrified tears that streaked hotly down your cheeks. You felt like you were breaking loose.

“Are you okay?” A voice nearby asked.

You started, stumbling away from the concerned looking woman. “Stay away from me!” You barked at her, gasping for air.

The woman looked wildly at you, palms held out to show you she meant no harm, but stayed where she was standing. You stared at her, taking huge lungfuls of air, trying to fight off the dizziness clouding your brain and the bright, blinking spots in your eyes. Your tears finally stopped, but your hands still shook, and you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I'm sorry.” You apologized to the lady. “It's been a hard day.”

“It happens.” She replied, lowering her hands. “Do you need to get somewhere?”

“I know where I'm going, thank you though.” You assured her, even if it was possible she didn't mean you any harm, you weren't going to risk it, like you had the last time you were in these Sectors.

“I hope you find what you're looking for.” She told you, honestly.

“So, do I.” You nodded to her, politely.

You waited for her to go back about her business, before finding the opening and slipping through it, careful not to cut yourself again. Eric gave you point by point directions to the shabby building that Penmark lived in. You weren't surprised to find the lift in his building was broken, so you found the stairwell entrance and started mounting them to the twelfth floor.

“Flat 1283A, Ms.” Eric's voice said through your headphones.

You found the dented and scuffed up door of Fynn Penmark and pounded on it, until he finally opened it. It took everything you had not to just burst out laughing. “Are you Fynn Penmark?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Who wants to know?”

He was gangly, face pockmarked from severe acne, that he was still clearly suffering from, his greasy black hair fell to his shoulders, his filthy clothes might have fit properly, if he weighed more than a kilogram, and with the slightest intake of air, you could tell he hadn't showered in a while, he smelled _ripe_.

“I'm looking for Mike.” You told him, breathing through your mouth.

“I don't know any Mike.” He said, then slammed the door in your face.

Rolling your jaw, you started pounding on his door again.

“Look, bitch.”

“Call me a bitch, and I'll crack your head open with your own door.” You growled at him, heated. “I'm looking for Mikey, he's my brother. My twin brother.”

Fynn looked you over, then cracked a smile. “Oh, I see it now.” He chuckled, leaning against his door. “I haven't seen Mike in a week.”

“Do you know where the idiot's gone?” You asked him, folding your arms over your chest.

“His new handler, Knox Monroe, picked him up from here, as I said, a week ago, to take him to Bristol.”

“How long does it take to get to Bristol?”

“Depending on your transportation, anywhere from three hours to two days.”

“How do you take the three hour trip?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Have someone with a car pick you up and take you there.” He laughed, still smirking at you. “And I'm sure you don't. So, you'll be walking, and that's the two day option.”

“Doesn't seem so bad.” You sighed, frowning at the thought of walking that far.

“Are you stupid?” Fynn snapped, suddenly agitated. “Have you ever been outside the wall? Have you ever _seen_ outside the wall? It's not rainbows and puppies out there. It's a barren fucking wasteland with pocket groups, that are more like feral wolves than humans, that would jump you, rob you and leave you for dead; if they didn't kill you in the process.”

“Have you been out there?” You asked him, chewing on your lip.

“Countless times.” Fynn nodded. “I make the run to Bristol, at least, once a month.”

“Can _you_ take me?” You asked him, hopefully.

“No.” Fynn shook his head at you. “I've already made my run for the month and I don't take tag-alongs.”

“Can you _tell_ me how to get there?” You tried to persuade him.

“Why is it so vital for you to go after him? He'll be back in a couple months.”

“Because, something bad is going to happen to him, and I have to warn him, before it happens.” You told him, desperate.

“Like, what?”

“Can you help me or not?” You snapped at him.

“All right, fine.” Fynn huffed back, rolling his eyes at you. “Come in.” He sighed, pushing the door open for you.

You hesitated for a moment, but stepped into the trashed flat. Fynn pushed some stuff aside until he found an electronic pad and pulled up a map he used to get from London to Bristol, the most efficient and safest way he could, when he did have to walk there. You watched him fuss over it for a few seconds, before holding his hand out to you.

“Mobile.” He grunted, rolling his eyes again and snatched it from your hand. “I'm giving you my best directions there, with a couple of notes, should you need to stay somewhere. Whatever you do, and I mean _whatever_ you do, do _not_ travel at night. I marked several places along the way you can stay at safely or get supplies from, just show them this.” He pulled up a logo on your mobile, his interlocking initials.

“They'll know I sent you and accommodate you, for free, and know you can be trusted.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, taking your mobile back.

“Hey, Mike is a good friend, and he's saved my ass more than once. So, I'm just returning the favor.” Fynn sighed, rubbing his face. “I wouldn't want Mike bashing my head in for getting his sister killed, that's for sure.”

There was a strong knock on the door and Fynn got up to check the peephole.

“Fuck, it's the Marshals.” He snapped.

“Big fellow, shoulders wider than the door, curls and a beard?” You asked, your adrenaline pumping.

“You know him?” Fynn asked, shocked.

“You can say that.” You gulped, glancing around. “Please, you have to hide me. If he finds me here, he'll stop me from saving Mikey.” You pleaded with him, clutching at his cold hand. “Please, Fynn.”

“Fucking Christ, you Keagans are a wily bunch.” He huffed, then directed you into his bedroom. “Be quiet and _don't_ touch anything.” He said, pointing a finger at you, before closing the door and rushing to answer Henry's incessant pounding.

“What the fuck do you want?” Fynn barked at Henry, almost able to look Henry in the eye, glaringly.

“High Marshal Cavill.” Henry said, flashing his badge in Fynn's face.

“And?” Fynn huffed, unperturbed, he had dealt with far scarier people, both High Marshals and Crime Bosses before, and wasn't afraid of Henry.

Henry could see that Fynn wasn't frightened by him and his tired blue eyes darkened, before he grabbed Fynn by the shirt and launched him backwards into his flat, then stepped inside himself, kicking the door closed behind him. While Henry didn't usually employ rough tactics and overly abuse his power as a Marshal, he wasn't wholly immune to it either, he still had his flaws and prejudice from his status as a high born and position in London.

“Fynnch Oliver Penmark.” He growled at the Runner and looked around the utterly trashed flat, a scowl of disgust on his face. “Rumor has it, that you're a Runner.” He said, settling his eyes back on Fynn, who was using the cluttered coffee table to pull himself up.

“Vicious rumors.” Fynn huffed, brushing himself off. “That dumb brain at my work place has it out for me, so he keeps trying to report me to the Council of Daily Operations.”

“You certainly don't spend much time at work.” Henry countered. “What were you again? A floor licker?”

“A Janitor.” Fynn barked, scowling. “I don't want to spend all my time in a hostile environment. So, I do enough hours to appease those blood thirsty bastards at the Council, and get paid.”

“We'll see how long that'll last.” Henry replied, folding his arms. “All I have to do is give them one word and they'll cut you off and you won't have this hell hole to keep you cozy in anymore.”

“What do you want, mate?” Fynn sighed with a growl, he was starting to think you weren't worth the trouble Henry wanted to make for him.

“I had a visit with a friend of yours, Teddy Wang, up in Sector Twenty-Eight.” Henry said, pushing aside some trash by his foot. “He told me that you might know something about Mikey Keagan and his sister.”

“I haven't seen Mike, in a week, and I've never met his sister.” Fynn replied, taking a seat on a clear spot on his couch.

“Funny.” Henry hummed, frowning at him. “I had a little informant tell me that she was seen coming this direction, to see _you_.”

“Well, either that _informant_ lied to you or she's lost her way. Because she's not here or has she been.”

“I doubt you would tell me, if she was.”

“Look, if giving you information on her would get you out of my place and my business, then I'd give it and her to you. But, I don't know where she is and I haven't seen her.” Fynn told him, annoyed. “You can look around, if you want.” He said, motioning around his pig sty.

Henry glanced around with a dirty look, then looked back to Fynn. “I know you're lying to me.” He hissed, his gut was screaming. “So, you either tell me, or I'll make that call right now and arrest you on top of it.” He warned Fynn, taking out his mobile.

“Jesus!” Fynn barked, jumping to his feet. “Fine! She came by an hour ago, looking for her brother, and said she was afraid something bad was going to happen to him, if she didn't find him and warn him about it. She wanted to know when I saw him last and I told her, just like I told you, it's been a week since I saw Mike.”

“What did she do with that information?” Henry asked, lowering his phone.

“She asked if I knew _where_ her brother went.”

“And, where is Mikey?”

“Bristol.” Fynn said, deflating.

“Bristol.” Henry repeated, sighing. “What is Mikey doing in Bristol?”

“I don't-”

Henry grabbed Fynn by the shirt and yanked him against him, narrowing his glowing blue eyes. “Out with it, Slum.” He growled, harshly.

“He's a Runner.” Fynn yelped, now he was frightened of Henry. “He's been a Runner for the last two years, and he's going to Bristol so he can be trained as an Adjutant Runner for one of the top Crime Bosses of Bristol, Jaxon Quinn.” He babbled out, his eyes huge. “I gave her directions on how to find him there and she left soon after, to start that way.” He added without Henry prompting or threatening him.

“Fuck.” Henry barked, pushing away from Fynn and storming out of his flat, cursing all the way down the hall.

“You can come out now.” Fynn huffed, opening his bedroom door a few minutes later.

“How could you tell him all that!” You snapped at him, punching him on the arm.

“Oh, chill your heels.” He growled, rubbing his arm. “He thinks you're already gone and doesn't know the route you'll be taking. Besides, he's a High Marshal, he's not going to leave the wall for some girl. The Councils wouldn't allow it and even the craziest and most determined Marshals have enough sense not to chance it.”

“I could have just given you away, after all the trouble the asshole gave me.” He added, sourly.

“Thanks.” You grumbled under your breath.

“Hey, when you see your brother again, tell him he owes me for a change.” He called after you.

“Tell him yourself.” You snapped over your shoulder and slammed his door shut.

– –

“She's fucking stupid.”

Henry growled, every muscle in his body was wound up and tight as he thought of you crossing the desolate waste outside the London Wall to Bristol. The danger that laid between there and London, and the even worse danger that lived and functioned inside the city of Bristol itself.

“She's out of her mind!” He kept mumbling, all the way back down to the car. “She's going to get herself killed!” He sighed, running both hands through his hair and making a bigger mess of his wild curls.

“What!” He hissed at his mobile rang through his car's AI.

“Is that how you address your Supreme?” Reyes asked, stiffly.

Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I'm sorry, sir. It's been a horrible morning.” He apologized.

“That Slave of yours keeping you up at night, Cavill.” Reyes laughed, his voice suggestive.

“Not exactly.” He huffed, spent.

“Well, either way.” Reyes sighed, sounding just as tired. “I need you to bring her in for her formal interview. The Council of Clerics have finally started the trials for the Trafficking.”

“Ugh.” Henry groaned, slumping in his seat. “Mother fucker.”

“Henry?” Reyes said slowly, hearing the sound of his voice.

“She's gone.” Henry admitted, regretfully. “I woke up this morning to her, gone. I've been trying to find her all day.”

“You _**lost**_ her!”

“If you want to put it that way.” He mumbled, picking at his nails and feeling like he was getting scolded by his mother.

“Where is she?”

“Well, if I knew that, I would have her, wouldn't I?” He snapped back, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What have you been doing all day!?”

“Following every lead to find her that I could, Dylon.” Henry defended himself, exasperated. “I've been to her family home, her work place and even her twin brother's workplace, along with every one of their friends'.”

“And?” Reyes screamed, veins bulging from his forehead and neck.

“My latest Intel says, she's on her way to Bristol, to find her brother, Michail.” Henry sighed, his temples throbbing. “She believes he's in trouble, since he's an Adjutant Runner for Jaxon Quinn.”

“Are you telling me, your _Slave_ , has a twin brother, that's a member of a top Crime Boss's business? The same Jaxon Quinn, that funds Twist's Trafficking?”

Henry swallowed, thickly. “Yes.”

“You realize, she's not only a top witness to Twist's operations, but Quinn's as well. She could help us bring him down, Henry! And you let her get away! How did you not know this to start with? Don't, don't fucking answer that. You know, if she gets there and Quinn realizes who she is-”

“He'll kill her.” Henry replied, his voice weakening.

“Has she left for Bristol yet?”

“As far as I know.” Henry replied, depressed on the matter. “I plan on going after her, Dylon.” He added, he had already made the choice to go after you, he didn't care what Dylon or the Councils said on the matter.

“You know, I can't _officially_ back you in your decision to chase after a Slummer, Henry.” Reyes sighed, leaning against his desk and rubbing his own throbbing head. “But, as your _friend_ and someone that wants to take down Twist and Quinn, you have my full backing.”

“What are we going to say when I don't come in for work, for however long it takes me to find and bring her back?”

“I want both of them, Henry. I want her and her brother. She's a witness and he's a conspirator in Quinn's business.” Dylon told him, bluntly. “I'll tell them that you are quite deeply undercover, trying to gain more info.”

“I'll need to go home and take Kal to Charlie's. I'll just tell him, I'm going undercover for a long while and will be back, when I crack the case.”

“That sounds fine.” Reyes nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don't fuck this up, Henry.” He said, then hung up.

“Thanks.” Henry sighed, rolling his eyes.

– –

You were careful as you made your way to the wall, knowing Henry was probably still lurking somewhere nearby, looking for you. You tried to stay in as well populated areas as you dared, hoping to dodge anyone working for Traffickers or getting spotted by Henry.

“Hey, do-”

“Fuck off.” You snapped as a guy approached you, not wanting anything he had to say or wanted from you, and picked up the pace of your walking.

It was starting to get late, after it taking all day to piece your way through the Sectors and follow your brother's footsteps. You probably would have been out of the city by now, if Henry hadn't showed up at Fynn's flat and took vital time interrogating him about you. You wondered how furious he would be to know how close to you he was in Fynn's place, and still didn't manage to catch you.

“We'd have to see each other again.” You mumbled to yourself.

The chances of seeing Henry again were probably pretty slim. After being gone for a little while, he would give up on trying to find you and go back to work for the Marshals and his life. A deep part of you throbbed though, you felt bad for leaving him like that, especially after everything he had done for you. He could have been an absolute monster and treated you like the Slummer that you are, forcing you to wear a Ownership bracelet and making you his proper Slave. But, Henry had been a complete gentleman to you, taking care of your every need and whim, it was almost like _he_ had become _your_ Slave. Then, the charging of several hundred credits to his account for the backpack and mobile, and the dress and jewelry for the party.

“He'll get over it.” You said, shaking your head. “He's a High Marshal, for fuck sake! He probably makes all that in a single case.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

But, it didn't stop you from feeling bad for leaving him, without a single word.

“Take a right.” Eric's voice said, cutting into your train of thought.

Grunting, you took the quick right at his instruction. As you rounded the corner, you saw, several meters in front of you, the opening in the massive wall that encompassed the city and its citizens. The opening was one-third the size of the meter wide metal and rusted panel, a strip of dying light filtering through the four meter thick wall. Just a kilometer beyond that, was the first place you would be able to find shelter in for the night, then come first light, you would be on your way towards Bristol and your brother.

“Hey!” A harsh call barked behind you as you approached the gap.

You slowly turned and felt a hard lump form in your throat. It was a Beta Marshal, and he looked _pissed_. “Me?” You squeaked, pointing to yourself, sheepishly.

“Yes, _you_!” He hissed, face starting to go red with his anger. “Get away from the wall!”

“Why?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him, heart pounding.

“Because, I said so!”

You took a deep breath in and out, turned on your heels and dashed for it. The Beta Marshal screamed for you to stop and come back, but you ignored him. You dove into the opening and shimmed along it, going as quickly as you could, having to turn sideways in a couple of places to get through. The Marshal was still yelling at you, wedging himself into the gap to chase after you.

The light got bright and brighter, despite the sun setting lower and lower, as you struggled through the opening to the outside world, until you finally popped out on the other side, a cool breeze rushing passed you, fresh and clean. You turned back to the hole and saw the Beta Marshal panting about halfway, then made a dismissive motion with his hand and started back inside London.

You were home free now.

“Eric, where's the first safe house?” You asked, grinning and feeling victorious, despite the hundred and eighty-five kilometers between you and Bristol.

“Head straight for an hour, Ms.” Eric replied a moment later.

– –

With Kal taken care of by his family, Henry returned to the Marshal Headquarters, intent on following after you, but knowing he needed better information on how to navigate the world outside London to do so.

“Henry.” Martin grinned as Henry entered his floor in the headquarters. “How are you?”

“Not in the mood.” Henry growled, folding his arms over his chest. “I know you have a Runner in your lock up, Lukas Hadwin.”

“Um,” Martin blinked up at Henry, then turned towards his computer and typed the name into his computer. “I do! He was arrested two months ago and is awaiting trial with the Council of Clerics.” He confirmed, turning back towards Henry.

“I want him brought to a private interrogation room on my floor, in the next five minutes.” Henry told the Alpha Marshall, then turned on his heels and marched back up the three floors to his office, needing the walk to calm down some of his anger.

Four minutes later, Martin shoved Lukas Hadwin into the private interrogation room on the High Marshall's floor, and handcuffed him to the table.

“Get out.” Henry barked at Martin, throwing the door open, startling both Martin and the Runner.

“But, Hen-” He started to protest, but his blood froze in his veins seeing the look on Henry's face. “High Marshall, he's my arrest, so he's my responsibility.”

“I outrank you, Sidwell.” Henry growled back at him, the anger he had managed to walk off started boiling again. “So, when I tell you to get out of my fucking interrogation room, I mean, _get out_.” He hissed.

Martin licked his lips, sheepishly, his mouth drying up. “Of course, High Marshall.” He croaked, edging around Henry, for the door.

“Mr. Hadwin.” Henry said, reaching up to the camera in the corner of the room and turning it off. “According to your extensive file, you're a high ranking Runner for a Bristol Crime Boss.”

“Total bullshit.” Lukas barked, trying hard to keep the angry and outraged expression on his face, despite shaking in his jail issued trainers. “My bitch of an ex-girlfriend reported me to the Council of Marshals, telling you corrupt pricks that I was a Runner, because I broke up with her and refused to pay her flat fees.”

“Is that so?” Henry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then, what's this?” He asked, dropping an open file on the table and pointed to a section of it. “Says you and another known Runner were arrested in 2864, for possession of a large cache of Sub-Blue. Your little partner in crime blabbed about how you both worked for a lucrative Crime Boss, running the drugs between Bristol and London.”

“Was he lying?”

Lukas glowered at the report, but didn't answer Henry's question; which only increased Henry's blood pressure. Grabbing the back of Lukas's neck, Henry slammed his face onto the metal table, cracking the screen on the file, and rested an uncomfortable amount of his weight on Lukas's neck.

“ _Was_ he lying?!” He yelled, directly into his ear.

“No!” Lukas cried out, squirming, fruitlessly.

“What Crime Boss?” Henry continued to yell.

“Benji Hernandez!” He squealed, whimpering.

Henry pushed off of Lukas's neck with a huff, he had heard about Hernandez, he had heard about all of the big time Crime Bosses that ruled Bristol like the Council of Clerics and Royals ruled London. But, Hernandez was the cream of the crop. His family was credited with establishing Bristol and bringing it to the level, almost on par, with London through deep waves of crime, selling every drug they could get their hands on or manufacture themselves, their number one seller was unsurprisingly, Sub-Blue.

– –

Many Crime Bosses and groups had tried dethroning the Hernandez Family, and all had failed. They had too much money, too much power and their followers, all across England, were loyal, to the death. A massive turf war had broken out several years back, the first conflict of the sort since the end of the fourth war. It had mainly broken out and was confined in Bristol, with pockets of skirmishes in London and the other major city of England, Chester, before finally being squashed. Dozens of people were killed and maimed in the four month long battle, and the Hernandez's kept their throne and were still stronger than ever.

The Hernandez's family, friends and their most distinguished workers were the only ones that lived in Sector One and Two of Bristol, everyone else lived in Sector Three to Sector Fifteen.

– –

“How do you get to Bristol?” Henry asked, pacing around the table.

“It depends.” Lukas panted, rubbing the back of his sore neck.

“On?” Henry pressed.

“The size of the load.” He replied, groaning. “If it's a small load, I'll walk there. If it's a large load, then we'll be driven from a checkpoint outside London to Bristol and back.”

Henry quietly paced around the room, brooding on his next course of action. He knew, for a fact, you wouldn't be driving to Bristol, or knew someone, other than your brother, who was already gone, that could drive you there. So, you had to be heading for Bristol on foot. He debated how he would follow after you, he could take his car to find you, sure he could reach you faster that way, but the moment he managed to get out of the wall with it, his car's on board locator would alert the appropriate channels and they'd go after him.

Especially since going after you wasn't authorized and being done quietly. Leaving Henry with the same option you had been saddled with.

_Walking_

“How do you get from London to Bristol?” He asked and leaned against the table, across from Lukas.

“There's two routes to Bristol.” Lukas sighed, knowing if he didn't tell Henry the information he wanted, the High Marshal would no doubt beat it out of him. “One is only used if you have a car, because pit stops are few and far between, and you don't want to be caught out there alone, especially at night. So, staying in the moving protection of a car is the best way for that path, since it's longer.”

“The other?”

“The other, is the one that's usually used by Runners that are walking between the two. It's shorter, by several kilometers, but slightly more dangerous than the car route, since it runs through several mini-towns that people, who were either banished or choose to live out there, populate. Some of them and the mini-towns are friendly and benevolent, but most are not. So, if you don't know what ones to stop in, chances are, you'll end up dead and stripped clean of any valuables they can take back into the cities and trade for goods.”

Henry gulped thickly, and felt a cold sweat break out on his skin as he battled the anxiety of you being out there, alone, for so long. He knew it was critically dangerous out there, but hearing Hadwin talking about it and the things between the two cities made it abundantly clear it was even more dangerous than he thought.

“Are you all right?” Lukas asked, seeing Henry's scruffy face steadily grow pale.

“I'm fine.” Henry growled, getting a handle on himself. “How do you know this other route, you used to walk there?”

“It's been used by thousands of Runners, for years.” Lukas laughed, shaking his head. “But, it was recently refined by another Runner.” He added, tugging on his cuffs. “Fynn Penmark recently compiled a map of safe places that Runners can stay for the nights and buy supplies.”

 _What were the chances?_ Henry thought.

“You'll be giving me that map.” He told him.

“I can't!”

Lukas squeaked, frightened at the thought of a High Marshal having the map showing him where Runners were coming and going from, the places they stayed and people that aided their operations.

“They'll kill me, if they find out I gave it to you!” He protested.

Henry leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Lukas's. “Look in my eyes and ask yourself, if you think I give a fuck?” He whispered, his tone cold and calculated.

“Now, give me the directions.”

Lukas gulped and nearly peed himself from the energy brewing off of Henry, who didn't pull back as he gave him the directions for the route. Henry looked over the map, making a legend of the symbols Lukas had made along the way, marking places to sleep and get supplies, as well as places that should be avoided at all costs. Once he was satisfied and sure the Runner wasn't lying to him and had told him all he knew, Henry stepped out into the hall and by Martin, not exchanging a single word with him.

Returning to his flat, Henry felt the quiet throughout it, without Kal's barked greeting and you either watching tv or listening to music. He missed those noises and being greeted by the both of you as he got home from work or wherever he had gone. Sighing, he grabbed a bag and stuffed a few items into it, a change of clothes, a small medical kit and a few other things he felt he might need, then checked to make sure his service weapon was still secure to his hip. Knowing it was getting cold out, Henry took off his coat and shirt, and pulled on his base layer HAMR, long sleeve shirt to wear under his black, knit sweater, before pulling his lightweight down jacket back over that.

Slinging his backpack over his back, situating his beanie on his head and zipping up his coat, Henry went back out the door, locking it up and rode the lift down to the ground floor. He knew a place in Sector Four with a large enough hole in the wall that he could squeeze through and start his journey to finding you.

– –

Taking his best guess and trusting his gut feeling, Henry made his way to one of the first safe houses on the map, that you would likely stop in for the night. He just hoped he could get there before you left. But, you had an almost five hour head start on him already. Since, he had to spend so much time pulling information out of Hadwin, plus the nearly a two hour walk around the wall to get to the closest point to the house, and where you nearly had a straight shot to it, then the hour to the mini-town.

Within an hour of you both leaving Fynn's flat, Henry had entered the Marshal's Headquarters to interrogate the known Runner, Lukas Hadwin, on how to get to Bristol, and you had reached the opening in the wall. While you finally reached the safe town and your room, Henry had been grilling Hadwin for a tense hour. For the next two, you took a much needed rest, and Henry finally finished juicing Hadwin for every bit of info he had, including the map Fynn had given you for the trip. He then rushed home, taking Kal to Charlie's and packing a bag to follow after you.

Henry wasn't afraid of the nearly three hour walk to the house, in the middle of the night. He could easily protect himself, both with his weapon and his hands, it was you that consumed all of his worry and fear. You had nothing to protect you, other than your wits, but those would only get someone so far, before running out and getting you severely injured, or killed.

“Please, just keep her safe until I can reach her.” He said out loud, looking up at the inky black sky and twinkling stars.

“That's all I ask.” He sighed, walking faster.

– –

You were exhausted after running around London all day, running from Henry and a Beta Marshall, then walking non-stop for a solid hour to reach the first safe place on Fynn's map, just as the last rays of sunlight died behind the horizon.

“Who are you and what do you want?” A hard looking woman behind a makeshift counter asked as you entered the decrepit building that was marked as a safe place.

“I'm a friend of Fynn's.” You told her, approaching the counter and showed her Fynn's logo off his map.

“I guess you want a room then?” She asked, turning her back to you and grabbed a key off the wall behind her.

“I do.” You replied, sheepishly.

“This way.” She rasped, disappearing through a doorway.

You gulped and followed after her, following her down a long dimly lit hallway with rows of doors on either side. She stopped by a door in the middle of the hallway and jammed the key in the lock and opened it. Pushing it open, she handed you the key and went back down the hall, leaving you alone. You leaned into the room, flicking on the light and finding it bare, only furnished with a bed, a single chair and nothing else, not even a window.

Sighing and figuring it was better than nothing, you stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind you, even shoving the chair up against it, for added security, before sitting down on the squeaky and dingy bed. Shrugging off your backpack, you unzipped it and pulled out a package of food you'd brought with you, slowly munching on it, before making sure Eric woke you up as soon as it was light out, and laid back on the bed; using your pack as a pillow. But, it took you a long time to fall asleep, the room was cold and there were scratching noises happening all around you, making you paranoid. But, eventually your exhaustion won out and you fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of your brother dying and Henry's voice calling out to you.

The time seemed so short, when Eric's voice sounded in your ears, and in reality, it had only been a mere two hours. Now, unknowingly, three hours ahead of Henry, you woke groggily and sat up, rubbing at your face, as you got up and pulled your backpack on. You removed the chair from your door and went down the hall to the front desk, finding the same lady there.

“Do you have a bathroom?” You asked her through a yawn and handed her the room key back, your bladder screaming.

She pointed to a door on the other side of the room and you went inside, grimacing at the filthy condition of it, but you really needed to pee, so you made do with it. Emptying your bladder, you looked at your map and found a supply store a mile up from you and headed that way, hoping for something decently hot, and was overjoyed to find a brewing coffee pot. You showed the supplier Fynn's mark, then filled a reusable cup with the hot brown liquid and roamed around as you sipped at it. Taking a couple more things of food, refilled your water bottle and pieced together something for breakfast.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the supplier as you finished your breakfast and refilled the coffee cup, before getting back on your way.

You made sure to follow Fynn's advice and the map, keeping your eyes to yourself and walking as quickly as you could to avoid trouble or attracting any unwanted attention. Everyone else around you did the same, there were very few people just standing around, those that were, begged for credits to buy things or trying to sell something else.

But, you ignored their harks and kept walking.

Once you were clear of the mini-town, you dared to have Eric put on some low music, the eerie quiet of the area playing on your anxious nerves as you headed for the next safe place, four hours to the north of your location. You decided to walk there as quickly as you could, then decide whether or not you could risk walking the extra two hours to the next one after that, without risking your own safety. Even though the sun had only just risen, you didn't want to play it risky or get cocky. If you did, and got yourself in trouble, you wouldn't make it to Bristol, hopefully in time to warn Mikey about potentially being in trouble, as Quinn's Runner.

“I'll make it, I know I will.” You assured yourself, pushing down the fearful anxiety. “I will.” You repeated, stubbornly, clenching your hands into fists. “I have too.” You added even softer, weakening to some of that concern.

– –

“Have you seen this girl?” Henry asked, approaching a hard looking woman and showing her a photo he had taken of you and Kal, not that long ago.

“No.” The woman replied, shaking her head.

Henry narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was lying through her missing teeth. Had he been in London, he would have simply slapped his badge on the counter and she would have sang like an Opera singer on opening night. But, he wasn't and that move would have sealed her lips up tighter than a crab's shell, and probably gotten him into a heap of trouble, wasting more of his time.

“Fine.” He sighed, turning away from her and heading back outside.

Glancing around, he spotted an elderly man standing at the corner, hands held out to every person that walked by him.

“Hey, old timer.” He said, walking up to him.

“Credit for a sandwich?” The old man asked, reaching his hands out to Henry.

“How about a sandwich for some information?” Henry asked, pulling a sandwich out of his pack. “Have you seen this girl?” He inquired, showing him your photo.

“Yeah, saw her super early this morning.” the old man replied, scratching his scraggly beard. “Just as I was setting up here, after first light, maybe three hours ago.”

“Looked in a mighty rush to be somewhere.” He added, nodding to himself.

“Thank you.” Henry thanked him and let him have the sandwich, plus an extra sandwich, just to be nice to the poor man, then started power walking away, knowing he was on the right path to find you and that the gap between you was steadily closing.

“I've got you now.” Henry smirked to himself.


	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re more than half way to Bristol, when Henry finally catches up to you. The reunion doesn’t go how either of you had expected.

You had managed to reach, what had once been, the town of Cherhill, whilst still being utterly oblivious to the fact Henry was trailing after you. The two of you had been playing a complicated game of cat and mouse, since you snuck out of his flat in London.

Frustratingly for Henry, he struggled to keep up with you, almost always an hour or more behind you from the last stop over you had taken. At one point, he had even been a mere thirty minutes behind you, in Froxfield, and was sure he'd catch up to you at the next safe house, only to spend an hour checking the two safe houses there and asking people if they had seen you, only to learn you had stopped in the mini-town long enough to replenish your supplies and get a thicker coat, before moving onto the next place.

“At least, she's keeping warm.” Henry said to himself, as he stepped out of the supply store and headed on his way to the next town, two hours away, in Marlborough.

Making it to Marlborough, Henry went to the only safe house the town had, a residential home, that was also the supply location for the area. He walked down the cracked and uneven sidewalk of the neighborhood, most of the houses on the street were dilapidated, boarded up or charred remains. So, it made finding the house easy, it was the best kept house on the block, but still in a level of disrepair.

“What do you want?” Asked a man standing outside the rough picket fence that bordered the dirt lawn.

“I'm looking for someone, a girl.” Henry told him, pulling his mobile out and showed him. “Have you seen her?” He asked, looking up at the windows at the second floor of the house.

The man leaned forward, squinting at the screen of Henry's mobile. “No.” He shook his head and pulled back. “We haven't had any girls come here in about a week.”

Henry sighed and rubbed at his gritty face, his temples throbbing, then turned away from the man. “I swear, when I get my hands on that girl.” He grumbled the empty threat, for the millionth time.

Pulling up the map on his mobile, Henry calculated the distance and time to the next mini-town of Cherhill, and how much time he had in the day. It was an almost three and a half hour walk to Cherhill from Marlborough, with two hours of sunlight remaining. So, sucking it up, Henry decided to chance it and walk there through the night.

– –

Getting into a room in Cherhill, you gingerly peeled your shoes and socks off your feet and rubbed at the raw skin and fat blisters that covered them. You weren't accustomed to walking for so long, for so far, and they felt like they had been worn down to your ankles.

Luckily, this pit stop was a little more accommodating, and you had a little bathroom in the room you were put up in, with the most absolute, teeniest tub you had ever seen in your life, and you lived near the bottom of London! But, you filled it with hot water and removed your clothing, sitting down on the dark stained toilet seat and soaked your feet into the water. Dipping a threadbare washcloth into the water, you used it to rub away some of the grit and dust that was caked into your skin. Once you soaked your feet for a little while, you rinsed your hair out in the sink, wishing you had some shampoo or soap, but settled for the plain water. Semi-refreshed, you redressed, nibbled on something for a late lunch and rested back against the bed, staring up at the water stained ceiling.

“Eric, how far is the next checkpoint?”

“Three hours, Ms.”

“When's sunrise?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Four hours, Ms.”

You laid there for a long moment, considering the sanity of walking yet another ten kilometers to Chippenham. “Oh, what's the worst that can happen?” You sighed, getting up and packing your things. “At least, I got to rest my feet.” You quipped to yourself, going out into the hall.

“Shit!” You snapped suddenly, looking down the long hallway and seeing the very last person you wanted to see, before dashing back into your room, in a complete panic. “How the fuck did _he_ find me! How did the fucker even know I had come this far?!” You paced the room, shaking.

“Of course!” You berated yourself. “He's a goddamned High Marshal! It's all he does! _All_ day, for years on end. But, why is he even bothering to come after me?” You shook your head, trying to clear the panic. “I'll worry about that later, I need to get the fuck out of here, before he sees me.”

You frantically looked around your room and spotted a godsend.

“Praise the gods.” You huffed, relieved for this room actually having a window.

You dropped the room key on the bed and rushed the window, pushing it open and looked out. You were on the third floor, so it was a fair drop to the ground outside. But, luckily there was a small metal balcony outside the second floor window of the room below yours. So, wiggling out your window backwards and hanging from the window frame, you dropped yourself the meter down to the balcony with loud clang and a shake of the rickety supports bolting the balcony into the red brick wall of the building.

Crouching there for a moment, to give the structure a moment to settle, you dropped the last meter to the ground at the first level of the building, then tucked tail and ran. Just as Henry's head popped through the open window of your abandoned room, he caught sight of you as you dashed around the side of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room and down the hall, stomping down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

– –

Henry had made it to Cherhill an hour before sunrise and exhausted as all hell. He had already decided to get a room, whether or not you were there, to take a power nap, before he fell flat on his face. He was no good as spent as he was from looking for you, then to take you back to London, for the trials. He still didn't know how he was going to get his hands on Mikey, but part of him didn't give a fuck about your brother, it was _you_ , he was worried about.

Entering the safe house, a rundown, three story hotel, Henry took a deep breath in and out as he approached the front desk and the male behind it, reading some cover-less and water damaged book, and readied himself to hear that he had never seen your face before. The guy looked over the top of his book as he heard Henry step up to his counter, slowly setting it down on the desk on the other side of the counter, and stood.

“Wanting a room?” He asked, looking Henry over.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded his head. “Can you tell me if you've seen this girl?” He asked, turning the screen of his mobile towards him.

“Oh yeah, I have.” The guy nodded at your photo. “She got a room here not that long ago, a couple hours maybe.”

Henry's hope went up a teeny bit. “Is she still here?” He asked, in suspense.

“Uh..” He turned his back to Henry and stepped into a little room for a moment, before returning. “Her key is still gone, so she must still be in her room. Unless, she forgot to return it, it happens more than you could realize. But, it's not a surprise, many people up and leaving out of the blue around here..”

“What room is she in?” Henry asked, interrupting him, even more antsy.

“Third floor, room six.”

“Do you have a master key to open the door?” He asked, chewing on his lip.

“Yeah, but I can't just go up there and open her door for you.” The guy protested. “It's against policy.”

Growling, Henry turned on his heels and headed for the stairwell leading up to your room. If he wasn't going to open your door, then Henry would just kick it in. He wasn't going to go up there and knock, so you would have the time to figure out how to slip by him again.

“Hey!” The hotel worker yelled, running around the counter and rushed after Henry.

Stomping up the stairs, the guy managed to get ahead of Henry and block the doorway that led down the hallway of your floor. Standing his ground as Henry stopped before him, huffing angrily, like a bull just entering the ring to fight the matador.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Henry hissed, between clenched teeth. “ _Now_.”

“It is against Hotel policy to disturb the guests. If you don't leave this instance, I will be forced to call security.”

“Oh really!” Henry snapped, brows lifting. “And who is the security in this shit hole?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest.

The guy gulped as he watched the biceps of Henry's arms bulge through his clothing. “I-I am.” He squeaked, like a frightened mouse, facing down a panther.

“That's what I thought.” Henry chuckled, as a door slammed somewhere in the building. “You'll be getting out of my way.” He said, grabbing the front of the guy's shirt and jerked him out of the way, before storming down to your room door.

Henry thrust his size eleven boot through the flimsy door of your room and stormed in, feeling the cool breeze bellowing in through the open window. “Goddamn it!” He hissed, stomping to the window and thrusting his head out and watched you dive around the corner of the building.

“Fuck!” He barked, charging out of the room, down the hall and down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby, then out the entrance door, calling out your name as he chased after you through a cluster of trees.

Whether or not you liked it, Henry was there chasing after you, no longer just missing you at every mini-town from London to Cherhill. He was in minutes of you, charging through the thicket of trees to the East of the hotel you both had bolted from. Henry could just see you ahead of him, maybe half a soccer field away from him, so he started pushing himself and closed the gap between you, within a few short minutes.

“Stop!” He yelled, reaching out and grabbed the back of your backpack, yanking and sending you backwards, before locking his arms around your upper body, trapping you against his chest; both of you gasping for air.

“Just stop.” He panted softly, dropping his forehead against the crown of your head. “Please, just stop.”

You growled, almost sounding like an angry cat, as you kicked your legs out and struggled in Henry's embrace. But Henry's thick arms only held onto you tighter, not picking up his head as you did, but grunted as you fruitlessly tried jabbing him in the side with your elbows and stomp on his foot.

“Stop it.” He barked into your ear.

“Let go of me!” You screamed, half hoping someone would hear and come help you, giving you the advantage to run again.

“I'm not.” Henry rumbled, spinning you around to face him and keeping a firm hold on you. “I tracked your butt for nearly a hundred and sixty kilometers, to take you back to London, and that's where we're going, as soon as we can.” He told you, with a heavy sigh.

“I'm not going back to London, so you can get fucked!” You barked at him.

“Ah!” He snapped and just managed to block your attempted knee shot. “Yes, you are.”

“Then, I'll run again!” You hissed, still struggling with him.

Henry sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut, taking a hold of your elbow and marched you back to the hotel. “Room.” He growled at the hotel guy, who looked like he wanted to protest, but gave Henry a key anyway.

“What are you doing with her?” He called after the two of you.

“Mind your own business, shithead.” Henry barked over his shoulder as he pulled you up the stairs to the second floor. “Sit down.” He ordered, carefully pushing you into the room and pointed to the chair.

You stood in the middle of the room, arms defiantly crossed over your chest. Henry stared back at you, a war of unsaid words flowing between the pair of you through looks alone.

“Why did you run?” Henry asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“My business.”

“Your business _is_ my business, since you want to act like a fucking brat and run off in the middle of the night, without word or reason. Especially, since you've gotten me in hot water with my boss. So, out with it.” He scolded you, his body tense.

“I know it's about your brother.” He said, when you remained silent. “I know that he's a Runner, working for Jaxon Quinn in Bristol. That he's going there to get training to be a big time Runner, and you're terrified that he's in some sort of trouble.”

“Congratulations.” You smirked at him, smugly. “Now, get the fuck out of my way!” You barked, starting for the door, but Henry blocked it. “Get out of the way!” You yelled, pushing at him, but he didn't move.

“I'm not.” He told you, softly, but firmly, shaking his head.

“You're going to get him killed!” You screamed, your voice breaking.

Henry blinked down at you, shaking his head again, and reached out to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head back to look up at him, seeing the furious and frightened tears in your eyes that you had been trying to keep at bay since having the nightmare. His thumbs smoothed over your cheeks, wiping away the dripping tears from your lashes, his face pinched with concern and confusion at how upset and desperate you were to reach not only Bristol, but your brother.

“You have brothers, Henry.” You sniffled softly, voice weak. “Wouldn't you do anything in the world, that you could, to save and protect them, if they were in danger?”

You tried to reason with him, pleading to his sense of family and the protective nature you knew Henry harbored in his soul, the reason you knew was why Henry wanted to be a Marshal; he couldn't protect people as a Cleric and Royal, the way he could as a Marshal. Henry's face softened, so did his heart, he would do everything he could, including giving his own life, to save one of his brothers, if they were in danger and trouble. He understood, mostly, what you were doing with running off and trekking through dangerous lands to reach Mikey.

“What trouble is he in?” He asked, blinking at you.

“I-” You frowned, you knew Mickey was in trouble, terrible trouble. But, you didn't know _what_ that trouble actually was, and sighed. “I don't know exactly.” You admitted, gulping. “But, I know he is.”

“I just—I just _feel_ it, Henry.” You told him, choked up.

Henry sighed, feeling the space between the rock and a hard place he was currently trapped in, get a whole lot tighter. He didn't know what to do with your brother, but he saw how deeply you felt about it and couldn't ignore that. So, he moved back a couple spaces and just focused on you, now that he had you.

“We'll figure it out.” He told you, softly. “But, for now, why don't we just rest. I'm sure we're both drained after all of this.”

“That's an understatement.” You laughed, nodding your head and letting your shoulders melt under the weight of exhaustion and stress.

“Give me your shoes.” Henry said, suddenly.

“What?” You snapped back, your nose wrinkling in confusion as you looked up at him.

“I said, _give me your shoes_.” Henry repeated himself, pointing down at your filthy trainers. “You can't run without them.”

“You wanna bet!”

“We both know you can't, love.” He chuckled, smirking at you, smugly. “So, take them off and give them to me”

You sighed. “Henry, I'm not going to run again, I promise.”

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Henry quoted, lifting a brow at you.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled your trainers off, tossing them to land at Henry's feet. Henry bent and picked up your shoes, shrugging his backpack off of his back and opened it, taking a couple of things, then shoved your shoes into his pack, zipping it up and connected the zipper to the hook below it, locking the backpack closed with a combination number; that wasn't his life pin.

“Why are you here, Henry?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him as you flexed your sore toes.

“To get you.” He replied, uncapping his water bottle.

“Why?” You asked, drawing it out. “You wouldn't just chase me because you wanted to. What, you worried about losing out on your six thousand credits? Wanting them back.”

“No!” Henry barked, enraged at the thought that all he wanted out of you was money. “I was worried about your fucking safety.”

“I made it here in one piece.” You said, gesturing around.

“That's not what I meant.” He mumbled, moving across the room to the window. “Completely.”

You narrowed your eyes at his broad back. “What aren't you telling me?” You asked, feeling the vibe fill the room.

“What am _I_ not telling _you_? What haven't _you_ been telling _me_?” He hissed, turning back to you. “You ditch out in the middle of the night, without a word or note telling me to get fucked, to trek across this barren waste, risking your safety, for your drug dealing, crime running brother, because you feel he's in trouble.”

“Don't mock me.” You growled back at him, your own anger bubbling. “I knew you wouldn't believe me, if I woke you up to tell you that I had a dream about him being killed. I knew you'd fucking mock me about and tell me it was just a dream and to go back to bed. That you wouldn't understand the deep gut feeling I have that it isn't just some random dream I had.” You paused, trying to get a hold of yourself.

“It's a deep and hot feeling in my gut, like a sharp knife to my bowels; that hurt so much. That bond between him and I, vibrates with it. I couldn't just sit in your flat and ignore it, and I sure hell wasn't going to tell a High Marshal about my brother being an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. That would be a career maker for--”

You froze and stared at him, wide eyed, feeling the pieces fall into place. Henry knew about your brother, he knew everything about him and his activities, and knew that you were running straight for Mikey. It was perfect for Henry, follow you to Mikey, drag both of you back to London and turn Mikey into the Supreme Marshal and the Clerics. He'd be hailed a hero, given a promotion and a medal and who knows what else for it.

Oh, you felt like clawing his beautiful blue eyes out of his smug fucking skull.

“You fuck.” You said, your voice dripping with barely contained anger and slightly sibilant. “You're just using me to get to Mikey.”

Henry pressed his lips together and pushed his jaw forward, then nodded his head. He grabbed the back of the chair and set it down in front of you, plopping down on it. “I was going to come after you, before I knew anything specific about your brother. I figured, since you were heading for Bristol, that he was into some sort of crime, people don't tend to go there if they're not. I was afraid you would get hurt, and god knows what else.”

“I didn't give a fuck about the money I spent to get you out of Twist's hell hole, or the money you took for the mobile and backpack you have.” He said, eyeing them. “Just you. But, my boss, Supreme Marshall Dylon Reyes, called me, while I was out looking for you. To tell me that the Council of Clerics were starting the trails on Twist and his associates for their operations, you're a witness in that case.” He explained to you.

“A witness.” You echoed.

“Yes. You were there, one of the victims. So, the Council would want to talk to you, ask you questions and take your statement about anything you saw or heard there, the things you went through. My _purchase_ of you, was done to verify that Twist was indeed selling people as Slaves and Servants. Keeping you, was, I don't fucking know. I was just told that it was final and I had too.”

“So, you did.”

“Obviously.” He snorted, lifting a brow at you. “But, it was also to keep an eye on you, to make sure you were kept safe from any of Twist's allies and higher up bosses.”

“Why would they care, I'm not the only one that was there.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Of the fourteen people we took out of that warehouse that had been kidnapped, just like you, under the same pretenses, you're the only one that had a buyer. So, you're considered more high profile.”

The muscles in your jaw twitched and your skin tingled with the hot heat of your fury, that unleashed with rock solid slap to Henry's tired and scruffy cheek, actually jerking his head to the side, from the force. Henry grunted and hissed at the searing pain of the slap, like lava had been splashed in his face. His hands gripped his knees and he shook his head against some of the pain, before looking back at you, his blue eyes darker than a stormy ocean and jaw tight.

“This is _your_ fault.” You barked at him, trembling. “If it wasn't for you, if you had just _purchased_ someone else in that line up, I would be _home_ right now! I would have been able to convince Michail into not going to Bristol with that damn handler, _months_ ago. _Months ago, Henry!_ ” You screamed, wanting to strike him again, but his hands shot out and gripped your wrists, pinning your hands to your thighs.

“I fucking hate you, dear god! I fucking hate you, so much.”

“I can live with that, if it means keeping you safe.” Henry growled through a tight jaw.

“I don't need you to protect me!” You snapped, jerking against him.

“Like fuck you don't!” He hissed, bringing his face closer to yours. “Your dear brother works for Jaxon Quinn, the second worse fucking Crime Boss this country has!”

“I know who the fuck he is!”

“Did you know he's the one that helped Twist fund that little warehouse you were imprisoned in?” He asked, lifting his brows at you. “Did you know that he's got people out here wanting to kill you? Because, if you can't make it to that interview with the Clerics, everything about Twist and that operation won't end well. They'll just get stuck with a few millions in fines, a couple of banishments, maybe someone getting sent to the Iron Tombs prison or executed. All of which people like Jaxon Quinn don't fucking feel, cause millions of credits is pocket money to him, just like the lives of the people that will be ruined and snuffed out, because there's thousands of people waiting in line to take their places.”

“Such as your brother.”

Your blazing anger turned to ice in your stomach and you nearly puked your guts out at the thought of a hit-man around some corner, waiting to kill you, or your brother taking the place of someone that had been killed by the justice system of London for their part in Quinn's business.

“That's why I came after you.” Henry said softly, easing the pressure he was putting on your wrists. “People are out here, wanting to kill you. You have a price on your head, and you're about to walk into the house, where every last one of those dirt-bags, live. Do you understand the danger _you_ are in? Your feeling about Mike being in trouble could be true, but it also could just be the realistic feel of a nightmare.”

“But, the danger _you_ are in _is_ real.”

He tried to make you understand, he was desperate that you understood that your life was in danger and you being out here and heading for Bristol was only increasing that danger and making it easier for them to find and kill you.

“It won't stop me.” You said, softly. “I have to get to Mikey before something happens to him.”

“I'll tell you what happens to him.” Henry said, frustrated and tired. “You find him, his handler finds out that you're his sister and they kill you both.”

“No questions. No begging. Just both of you dying.”

A chill raced down your spine, the revelation spiraling around your brain. “That must be it.” You said, eyes flaring at Henry. “What if he does find out about Mikey being my brother, somehow?”

Henry let go of your wrists and rubbed at his face, hunching over his chair. “I don't know, maybe.” He huffed into his palms. “Is there a shower in this place?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I don't know if this room does, but I had a micro-bathtub in my room.” You retorted, looking towards the half open bathroom door.

Getting up with a tired and sore groan, Henry pushed open the bathroom door and found it did indeed have a shower and another micro-bathtub, so much to his relief. He turned back to you, studying you for a long moment, before taking off his jacket, shoes and socks, then pulled his sweater over his head, tossing them all onto the chair.

“I'm going to take a shower.” He told you, his voice measured with the still rocky trust the two of you had for each other.

“Okay.” You replied, staring back at him.

Henry slowly turned towards the bathroom, like he expected you to suddenly bolt for the door or window, but you stayed where you were on the edge of the bed. Sighing, Henry entered the bathroom, but didn't close the door all the way, in case you ran and he needed to go after you; possibly naked and wet. He spun the loose hot tap and the shower head sputtered to life, he stood there for a long time, waiting for the water to heat up, as he stared at his exhausted reflection through the spiderweb cracks running through the broken mirror, before removing his jeans and boxers, dropping them on the tank of the old toilet and stepped under the weak spray, with a loud groan.

You sighed, hearing the shower turn on and moved your backpack into your lap. Unzipping it, you removed your water bottle and a package of food you bought at the last supplier's. You sat there eating your food and drinking your water, trying to block out the thought of Henry naked just mere feet from you, and being able to catch a glimpse of his body through the fogged up mirror above the chipped sink and the open door.

“You know, Teddy Wang said you held him up at knife point.” Henry said, coming out of the shower in nothing but socks and his jeans, as he rubbed a hole strewn towel over his dripping head; still chuckling at the thought.

“Because, I did.” You retorted, glancing out the window and not his warm and pink torso.

Henry stopped and blinked down at you. “Really?” He laughed, a grin of amusement spreading across his lips.

“Yes.” You snapped, looking back at him. “He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know, so I took out the knife my dad gave me and told him what I would do with it, if he didn't.” You informed him, angry at his amusement.

“Lord, I can only wonder what you told Fynn, to make him talk.” He roared with laughter.

“I told him, I would use his own door to bash his head in.” You replied, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was sure you could take care of yourself, but I didn't take you as such a violent little thing.” Henry said, still unendingly tickled. “I mean, maybe I should be surprised. You did nearly take my head off with that slap of yours.” He chuckled, rubbing his cheek at the residual sting.

Letting out a frustrated growl, sick of people not taking you seriously, and the situation period, you launched off the bed and towards Henry, catching him off guard enough to send both of you into the wall. But, Henry recovered quickly, turning and pressing you up against the wall.

“Easy there, little nugget.” He grinned at you.

“Don't call me that!” You barked, struggling against him.

“Call you what?” He chuckled, enjoying your little rampage. “Nugget?”

“Yes!” You hissed, pressing your palms against his bare chest and tried pushing him off of you.

“Or what, _Nugget_?” He continued to chuckle, barely teetering as you pushed against him. “Hey now!” He snapped, squeezing his legs shut, planted his hands under your arms and pushed you up the wall, until your faces were level. “That's the second time you tried kneeing me there. That's not very nice, Nugget.”

“Oh my god, stop calling me that, you big brute!” You huffed. “Or else!”

Henry smirked at you, bringing his face close to yours. “Or else, what?” He said in a low and deep voice.

You knew you should just give up, he had you out matched in nearly everything, your feet were dangling above the dingy carpet, as he held you up against the wall, like you weighed less than the wallpaper peeling off of it.

So, you did something he wouldn't expect.

Licking your lips and taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, the tips of your noses lightly brushing, you tilted your head and kissed him on the lips. Henry nearly dropped you, in shock of feeling your warm lips against his, his mouth falling open and his pupils dilating. You didn't pull back, but you didn't deepen the kiss either. Henry slowly closed his mouth, his full lips cradled your bottom lip for a moment, before he pulled his head back and looked at you, licking his lips and tasting the sweetness of yours on his tongue.

He let out a shuddering breath, eyes darkening as he stared into yours. He saw a look eclipse your face and brought his lips back to yours, kissing them with a soft smack echoing in the room. You let out a soft breath through your nose and whimpered, eyes half falling shut. Henry smirked and chuckled softly against your mouth and kissed you deeper, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you closer against his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck and picked up your hanging legs to wrap them around his waist, nudging your mouth against his, feeling a growing bubble of desire and need for him.

One arm hugged around your waist, Henry planted a hand on the wall by your head, swirling his tongue against your mouth as his head tilted to the side, moaning deep in his throat and chest. His hand went to tangle in your hair, as the pair of you heatedly made out. The kiss was hungry and almost sloppy, you panted as Henry kissed down your mouth and chin to your neck, nibbling and biting at the pounding pulse under your jaw. You pushed your head back, letting your eyes finally fall closed as he sucked on your throat, whimpering softly as he sank his teeth into the bruised skin.

“Fuck.” He huffed and pressed his forehead against your temple. “I want you.” He moaned against your cheek, out of breath and gasping for air, as his blunt fingers and nails clawed and tugged at the waistband of your pants. “I've _wanted_ you.” He admitted, eyes rolling shut as his clothed cock rubbed against your covered pussy, begging to be buried in the heat it knew was there, like it was sonar.

Chuckling, you nudge your cheek against his, amused by the turn of events. You had only kissed him to see if he would let you go and quit calling you, Nugget; not have the two of you melt into a heated and passionate lip battle, leaving both of you breathless and clearly wanting for the other. You would be lying, if you didn't admit that you had thought about Henry like this from time to time, wanting to see what he looked like naked, all in a hard pant, his skin damp with sweat and a pink glow from his spent effort; the feel of him inside of you. But, it also gave you qualms, deep in the pit of your stomach as well, a soft shyness washing over you for a moment, before you felt the nudge of Henry's hips against yours again, throwing it out the window and into the dying sunlight.

“Me too.” You admitted into the shell of his ear, nose brushing the still damp curls around it. “I want you too, Henry.” You whispered, breathless, and hugged your legs tighter around his hips.

Henry let out such a growl against your neck, that you let out a needy whimper, as he pushed you both off the wall, taking a step back and turning towards the bed, laying you down on it. He unhooked your legs from around his hips and fumbled with the button of your pants, before shoving them and your underwear down your hips and thighs; so you could kick out of them, while he removed his own jeans. Henry was attacking your mouth and throat again, his hands diving under the hem of your shirt and going straight for your breasts. You moaned at the feel of his lips against your skin, his hot hands squeezing and kneading your breasts in his palms, and the free feeling of his cock rubbing shamelessly against your bare folds, making the muscles of your thighs tremble from how good it felt.

“You like that, don't you?” He asked, in a husky voice, loving the sounds you were making as he humped against you.

“God, yes.” You mewled, dragging your nails down his broad back.

He chuckled, bracing his arms at either side of your head and looked down at you, watching you melt into the mattress beneath you. “You're still a virgin, aren't you?” He asked, his head tilting as he shifted his weight to one arm and glided his fingertips over your stomach.

You looked up at him and gave an audible gulp, nodding your head and looking up at him like a frightened rabbit. A smirk grew on his scruffy face, fingers circling your navel before dipping low, to rub the pads of two fingers against your sensitive clit. Henry wasn't put off by your virginity, but he didn't want to ruin it by succumbing to his animal desire to thrust his, well-endowed, cock into your tight, little hole and fuck you within an inch of your life, either. You whimpered and bucked up against his fingers, crazy for more friction. Henry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head at you and grinning like a hungry wolf.

“None of that, _Nugget_.” He cooed at you, removing his fingers from your wet folds and licked them clean; his eyes never leaving yours. “Have you ever touched yourself?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

You nodded your head, mutely.

He reached out and took your hand into his, pulling it down between your legs, and flattened two of your fingers down on your clit, and pressed them down with his own, gently guiding both of your hands in a slow and easy motion against it, watching your face for a few moments, before removing his hand, letting you continue touching yourself on your own, and looked down between your bodies. You had heard enough about sex from Mikey and your co-workers to know, this wasn't how you did it, but you did know about touching yourself, you had done on and off since you were a teen. But, you had never done it in front of anyone before, and doing it with Henry leaning over you, his eyes intent on your fingers, made you incredibly self-conscious.

“Henry..” You moaned out, trying to put the sound of a question in it, but your brain couldn't form it.

Henry's eyes flickered towards yours and smirk. “What, you just want me to shove my massive cock in that _tight_ and _little_ hole of yours?” He quipped, teasing you softly, his fingers brushing the skin between your breasts. “If I did that, you wouldn't be walking anywhere, for a _very_ long time.” He chuckled, kissing the tip of your nose.

His fingers moved down your torso, skirting around your still working hand and teased a fingertip between your folds, ringing it around your entrance and coming back with a thick string of come. “Take that finger,” He tapped your middle finger. “and slip it in that sweet hole of yours for me.” He said, nodding his head at you, encouragingly.

“I--” You choked up, eyes wide, and gulped. “I've--” You gulped, flustered.

“Oh,” Henry chuckled, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead. “You're a button rubber.”

“A what?” You squeaked, confused and caught off guard.

“You rub your little _button_.” He cooed, tapped your clit, with a smirk. “To get off. Without touching your core.” He gently pushed the very tip of his thick finger into your entrance. “A virgin, in almost every way.”

“That's okay, you can do it.” He encouraged you. “Nice and easy, _Nugget_.” He purred, moving his finger out of your way.

Gulping again, you slowly inched your hand away from your clit, fingers cupping your folds for a moment, as you hesitated, trying to muster the courage off of Henry's face and into yourself, before, very slowly, parting your folds with the tip of your middle finger and towards your entrance. It felt strange to push your finger into yourself. It was deep, wet, so much warmer than you thought, and soft. You touched something deep inside of your cunt and gasped, toes curling.

“Oh, someone found her sweet spot.” Henry chuckled, playfully tapping you on the nose.

“It feels so good.” You whimpered, rubbing at it a little bit more, biting your lip.

“That's good.” He smiled, watching you start to mindlessly thrust your finger in and out. “That's it.” He encouraged you, basking in the sight, rubbing his palm up and down your quivering thigh, before turning his hand to join yours. “No, no.” He murmured as you started to remove your finger. “Keep that finger right there.” He said, the tip of his finger brushing the underside of yours.

Henry tickled the edge of your folds for a moment, before slipping it under yours and gingerly pushed it in to join your own finger inside of you, stretching you wide open. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth as you whimpered, uncomfortable at the almost painful stretch of your combined fingers. He shushed you and timed his thick digit with your smaller one, gently joining the tip of your finger at your sweet spot, and added even more pressure to it, making you cry out loud, throwing your head back.

“You're doing so well.” He praised you, nuzzling the side of your face with his. “I can't wait to have my cock inside of you.” He panted, eyes rolling shut at the idea. “Let's see if you can take one more.” He said, curiously. “Pull your finger halfway out.” He instructed you, rubbing his next finger in the juices dripping from you, then poising it at your hole.

“Just like that, good girl.”

Carefully shifting his first finger around yours, Henry pressed his new finger through the ring of muscle surrounding your entrance, taking it slow.

“Just relax.” He cooed at you, pressing his knees against the edge of the bed to shift his weight and used his now free hand to caress the side of your hot face and rubbed his palm over your chest, trying to help your relax. “Deep breaths. That's it. Very good.” He smiled at you, his finger halfway in.

“Henry, please.” You mewled, chewing your lip to bits.

“Hush.” He whispered, caressing the pad of his thumb down the bridge of your nose. “Gotta get you nice and open for my cock, love.” He told you, breathing heavy has the rest of his finger slide home with the first. “It'll hurt so much more, if I don't, and I don't want to hurt you, darling.” He said, a rush of icy goosebumps racing over his body at the sweet whimper that left your parted lips.

“Put your finger back in.”

“I can't.” You whimpered, shaking your head at him.

“Yes, you can.” He said softly, nodding his head and holding your eyes. “Come on, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “You can do it for me, can't you? Don't you want me to be inside of you?” He asked, coaxing you. “Keeping you nice and warm.” He added with a chuckle, feeling the creeping cold of the night outside coming through the thin walls and windowpane, chilling the sweaty skin of his naked body.

You gulped at the tone of his dirty talking, feeling it going straight to your pussy, making Henry chuckle as he felt the pooling wetness growing around your combine fingers. Whimpering softly, you pushed your finger back into the tight space above Henry's big ones.

“There, see.” Henry smiled, kissing your forehead. “Not so bad, is it, love?” He asked, crooking his, and your, fingers into your sweet spot and rubbed at it, with measured experience. “How's that feel, baby?” He asked, leaning in to kiss you, lazily.

“It feels so good, Henry.” You moaned against his mouth. “So fucking good.”

“Just wait til you have my cock in you, it'll feel a million times better.” He promised.

“I want it now.” You whined, nudging him.

“Just a little bit long, honey.” He cooed, kissing your hot cheek. “There's a little something I want you to give me first, just to make sure you're nice and relaxed, and comfy, for me to nestle inside this sweet little hole of yours.”

“Hen--”

“Ah-Ah, Sshhh.” He interrupted you, shaking his head and starting to work his fingers in and out, taking your finger with them. “Enjoy it, darling.”

You moaned aloud, licking your lips and pushing your head back, eyes rolling shut at the phenomenal feeling of the teamwork your joined fingers were pulling off inside of you. You rocked your whole body down on your and his fingers, driving them deeper inside of you and stretching you wider with each motion. Henry smiled down at you, watching you lose yourself in the motion and moment; and he hadn't even given you the best part yet. He slowly slipped his fingers free of your core, you blissfully unaware of the change as you continued to fuck your own finger.

“I can't wait to have you squirt all over my cock.” He said aloud, his eyes glued to your finger, then watched the change slowly wash over you as your orgasm neared. “That's it, sweetheart. Fuck that finger good, come all over it.” He said in a husky and arousal dripping voice, feeling himself get even harder at the sight, and started rubbing your swollen clit.

“H-Hen-Henry.” You gasped, breathing hard, as your toes curled against the amazing hot flood rushing through your sweaty body; rubbing your clit alone had never felt this good.

“Come.” He hissed, eyes huge and focused on you. “Come for me. Soak the the bed, baby. You can do it, come on.” He encouraged you, a free hand moving to his hot and swollen cock, giving it a few pumps.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” You mewled, face contorting as your orgasm started to peak. “Henry!” You cried out, before finally falling into your orgasm and drenched your finger, leaving a damp spot on the duvet beneath you.

Henry licked his lips, the heavy and pleasing aroma of your arousal filling his nose; it made him hum. “See that? Told you, you could do.” He said, when you were halfway recovered. “And you didn't even need my fingers.” He added, with a sly grin.

“Huh?” You squeaked, looking down your heaving body to see his fingers still resting lightly on your clit, and your own finger still inside your core. “Oh fuck.” You chuckled shyly, your face heating up.

Henry chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Now, you can have my cock, sweetheart.” He smiled slyly at you.

“I don't know what—” You cut yourself off, feeling self-conscious again, and looked away from him.

You didn't know what to do once he was inside of you, you hadn't known what to do with your own finger inside of you, if it wasn't for Henry's fingers there as well, and him instructing you. But, Henry was very experienced in the art of lovemaking, and wasn't surprised or bothered by your inexperience in it; he had his own solutions to such things. So, he wrapped your heavy legs around his waist and your arms about his neck, before putting his arms around your waist. Henry lifted you up, so he could stand to his full height, slipping an arm beneath your bottom as he did, to keep you from slipping.

“It's all right, sweet girl.” He assured you, moving to the head of the bed and sat down. “Take your shirt off.” He told you, tugging on the garment.

Biting your lip shyly, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, tossing it to the floor. Henry smiled and smoothed his palms up your back to the clasp of your bra and popped it free. Slipping the straps of your bra off your shoulders, Henry tossed the undergarment to the floor with your shirt and leaned forward to place open mouthed kisses to the supple skin of your breasts, nuzzling his face between them and leaving, almost painful, love bites in their wake. You whimpered, hugging your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his hair, feeling the solid and hot flesh of his cock press up against your thighs and ass.

Moaning against your skin, as your shifting rubbed your ass down against his cock, Henry turned and laid back on the bed, his head on the dingy and flat pillow, all the stuffing flattened from years of use. He held you in his lap, as you straddled him, and pulled up his knees to give you a little more stability. Henry gripped your hips to move you, so you knelt on your knees over him, then reached between your legs to take himself in hand, lining up with your sticky entrance, and pushed his hips up enough to press the fat and swollen tip of his cock just into you, then held his hips there.

“Very slowly, push yourself down.” He instructed you, nodding his head at you, as he broke out in a sweat, that plastered his curls to his forehead. “That's good. Keep it up, baby.” He said, breathing hard.

You pushed your hips down on Henry's cock, feeling how hot and hard it actually was as it filled you more and more. There was only a little bit of extra stretch as he entered you, but it wasn't uncomfortable and the slickness left over from your orgasm helped make it easier to do. It took some slow patience, but you finally had your fill of Henry inside of you, shifting in his lap.

“That feels so different.” You whimpered, feeling like he was deep inside of your stomach.

Henry smiled up at you, chuckling. “I'm sure.” He replied, nudging his hips upwards. “I'm nice and deep into your cervix.” He commented, feeling it wrapped around his cock. “Are you okay?” He asked, taking a few deep breaths, to keep a handle on himself.

“I'm-I'm fine.” You assured him, flustered at the feeling of him rubbing up against your cervix. “Wh-what do you wa-want me t-to do?” You asked, gulping thickly.

“So eager.” Henry teased, kneading your hips in his palms. “Just follow my motion.” He said, looking up at you.

Gripping your hips more securely, Henry started moving you back and forth on his cock, keeping himself firmly housed inside of you, while hitting all the right places, including rubbing your still sensitive and swollen clit against his belly. You gasped aloud, your hands gripping his wrists, and rocked faster, but Henry held you off, keeping your motion slow and steady, not wanting either of you to rush it.

“Easy, baby girl.” He cooed at you, letting go of your hips and rubbing his palms up and down your thighs. “We have all night, sweetheart. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” Henry shifted his hips as you continued to ride him in an easy pace, feeling the sticky smear of your juices all over his stomach and cock.

Henry had dreamt about this, in the lone times he didn't have crippling nightmares.

– –

You would come into his bedroom, like you would when he was having a bad dream. Running your hand up and down his chest, touching his face and playing with his hair, before moving your hand down his taut stomach and into the elastic waistband of his pajama pants; rubbing his soft cock and fondling his balls, making him slowly grow against your warm palm. Wrapping your hand around the base of his then swollen cock, your hand would slide up and down the long length, swirling your thumb around his sensitive head; smiling so sweetly at him, when he moaned deep in his throat and thrust up into your grasp. Your pace was maddeningly slow compared to the hot need Henry had to be inside of you; spilling his load as deeply as he possibly could into you, and hear you call out his name as you orgasmed.

It didn't take long for that to happen as you lifted away the fabric of his pants, his eyes dropping to your still stroking hand. Smirking, you let his cock fall heavily to his abdomen and stomach. Henry gulped as you moved over him, straddling his waist and kneeling over him, hands braced against his broad chest for a moment. You reached back with one hand, taking up his cock again and bringing it to your weeping pussy, sliding him into the comforting, eye fluttering, warmth of your core, making Henry call out and grab your hips, planting his feet and thrust into you with one fluid motion, burying himself so completely inside of you.

– –

“Oh!” You gasped suddenly, bringing Henry back from remembering the dream. “Henry.” You whimpered, as you felt the intoxicating build of a second orgasm.

Henry's hands moved from your thighs to the back of your arms, pulling you down on top of him. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head, he kept his knees bent, using his planted feet on the squeaky mattress to push up into you. Keeping the same easy rocking, but driving himself so much deeper, that it sent spasms of pleasure throughout your whole body. You moaned into his neck, panting opening mouthed against the skin of his shoulder, sounding so soft and sweet in Henry's ear.

It wasn't long before Henry felt the unraveling snake of pleasure overcome him, his cock pulsed and throbbed inside of you, his natural instincts kicking in and made his movements involuntary as he continued to wildly thrust, his balls tightening in preparation. You could feel every muscle in Henry's body tense up, his loud, uncensored and lewd sounds grunting and moaning into your ear and hair, both of you could feel the rapid beating of your hearts pounding together with your chests pressed together; the feeling of his cock throbbing into you keeping in time with each heartbeat. He was at the point of no return now, with a few more thrusts, he push himself as deep into you as he could, scrunching you both up in the process, and came.

The strong and hot spurts of his come going off inside of you, drumming your cervix like a demolition hammer. You let out one sound, then came and squirted around Henry's still spewing cock, drenching his abdomen and balls with your release; leaving yet another puddle on the bed. Both of you became dead weight, spent from all the walking and stress, magnified by the mind-blowing orgasms you shared. Henry's hands slowly came to life, rubbing up and down your back and sides, head turning to kiss your temple as he did.

Neither of you said anything, neither of you needed to say anything. It had all been spoken in that intimate moment, saying what words could not. You sighed softly, the scent of his sweaty skin in your nose as you nuzzled his neck, feeling the deep tug of sleep take over you. Henry smiled softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead as he felt you fall asleep, the soft change of your breathing, chilling his skin. He pushed his head back into the pillow and mattress, staring up at the stained drop ceiling with a huge grin crossing over his face, he hadn't felt this satisfied and relaxed in a very long time, he had never felt this complete either, as he fell asleep with you.

– –

You woke a little while later, still laying on top of Henry, his soft cock still buried in your sore pussy. Biting your lip, you carefully sat up, freezing as Henry moaned and shifted in his sleep. You reached out and gently soothed his curls off his forehead, until he relaxed and dropped back off into a deep sleep, before carefully moving off him, biting back a moan as his cock slipped free and you could get off the bed.

Henry stirred again, and you again played with his hair.

“Ssshh.” You whispered to him softly, heart pounding. “Sleep sweet, Henry.” You cooed at him, using your other hand to rub his chest, knowing how well it calmed him.

When he finally relaxed again, you tiptoed into the bathroom, carefully feeling for the toilet in the darkness, not wanting to turn the light on and wake Henry up. Finding it, you groaned as your butt touched the ice cold seat, and relieved yourself with a sigh. Stepping back out of the bathroom, you glanced around and spotted Henry's backpack. Every nerve and cell in your body told you to grab it and break into it, taking back your shoes and the rest of your stuff, and bolt out of the room; nighttime be damned, you needed to get to Mikey.

You almost did go for it, before you heard Henry softly mumble out your name in his sleep. He was dreaming about you. So, it wasn't only you that dreamed of him, that your mind-blowing and intense sex wasn't just because you had given him an opening to do so. Henry actually wanted to have sex with you, because he was in love with you.

“Goddamn it.” You huffed softly, your breath coming out in a light fog in the chill of the room, feeling the chemicals of your flight mode die away as you watched him sleep from the foot of the bed, and he mumbled out your name, yet again.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the first shirt like object off the floor and pulled it on, before stepping over to the curtain-less window. You were so conflicted, you wanted to leave and get to Bristol, it was only a ten hour walk from Cherhill, and according to the antique clock on the wall, it was only three in the morning. If you left now, you could power walk it to Bristol, gaining more time between you leaving and Henry potentially waking up. Then, by the time he reached you again, you would be in the heavily populated city, making it a million times easier for you to hide from him, as you searched for your brother.

You looked over your shoulder at Henry and sighed, but you couldn't just abandon him again either. Especially, after the night you both had. It would have been a kick to his trust if you had ran again, but an even bigger drop kick to his heart, ruining whatever was potentially happening between the pair of you. He would never trust you again, he would never love you again. He would either finally treat you like the Slummer Slave he had purchased, or he would just throw you to the Council of Clerics, letting them do with you as they pleased. Sighing again, you rubbed at your tired face, turning back towards the window, and looked out over the back of the hotel, the half moon resting on the tips of the trees beneath it, throwing a eerie silvery light through their branches.

“What am I going to do?” You asked yourself, breath fogging up the windowpane in front of you, oblivious of Henry starting to stir on the bed behind you.

The slow alarm sounded through Henry's skull as his body realized that your weight was no longer on top of him. His unconscious mind's first attempt to remedy this, was to roll over onto his side, figuring you had simply rolled off of him in the night. A hand sluggishly moving out over the mattress in search of you, but came up empty. He moaned in his sleep, brow furrowing, before his alert blue eyes popped open and panned around the room in front of him, the bathroom door was dark, but open, a quick glance to the room door showed it was still locked, but you could have taken the key and locked it behind you as you ran again.

His heart started to pound, with the anxiety of possibly losing you, and anger that you had broken your promise not to run again. He rolled onto his back, to get up out of bed, but paused, finding you standing at the window, wearing nothing, but his knit sweater, to keep the chill of the room at bay, to some extent. He was relieved to see you hadn't run after all, but he could tell by the way you stood and hugged your arms around yourself, that you were having a mental war with yourself. Frowning, he sat up, reaching out for his boxers and pulled them back on, before standing up to move behind you.

You gasped at the touch of Henry's hand on your hip. “Christ.” You let out in a frightened huff.

Henry smiled softly at you. “I'm sorry.” He chuckled softly. “I didn't mean to scare you.” He said, kissing the back of your hair and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hugging you back against him, to share the extra warmth of his body, and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Anything interesting?” He asked gently, looking out the window.

You knew what Henry meant, he wanted you to confide in him, tell him what you were thinking and what was clearly bothering you. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach was in knots, as you thought about him and your brother, torn between the two men. Did you tell Henry you weren't going back to London with him, no matter what, breaking his heart and incurring his wrath? Or, did you let your brother reap his choice to work for dangerous people, potentially getting himself kill? It had been Mikey's choice to work for Jaxon Quinn, he knew the risks and rewards of doing so.

Everyone did.

You sighed again, the weight of your conflict sounding with that outtake of air. Henry took a soft intake of air through his nose and let it out again, your body was tense against his. He really didn't need to ask what you were thinking, or really how you were feeling, he could sense it, and had known about it the moment he learned all the facts in the matter. He just figured it would help you relax and come to a conclusion on what to do, if you talked about it.

“He's my brother, Henry.” You whispered, leaning your head back against his chest, but kept your eyes out the window.

“I know.” He replied, gently.

“But,” You frowned at the faint reflection of you both in the window, a new knot twisting in your stomach.

“But?” Henry frowned back.

“ _But_ , I-” You chewed on your lip for a moment, mustering up some courage. “I also love you.”

Henry felt a tingling warmth in his chest, hearing your words, pressing his lips together as he tried controlling the smile on his face. “I love you too.” He confessed, feeling a weight lift off of him.

“I don't want to choose.” You added, almost soundlessly.

Henry sighed, the smile turning into a frown as he heard your words. “I know you don't.” He said, softly, and closed his eyes, feeling the swell of conflict fill him as well.

He honestly didn't want to make you choose between him and Mikey, knowing that whatever choice you did make, you would end up regretting it, because it wasn't the other option. He felt you get squeezed into the same rock and hard place he was currently trapped in.

“Come back to bed.” He said, finally. “It's cold.”

Neither of you moved for a moment, before you let Henry pull you back to bed, slipping under the thin duvet with you and curling his body around yours to keep you warm, letting you use his arm as a pillow. But, as you both, slowly, drifted back off to sleep, Henry had already made the choice of what the two of you were going to do next, when the sun finally rose again.


End file.
